


Surfacing

by ilikeblue



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I can't seem to help writing fluff, Love Triangle (not really), Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Fluff, Smitten Jaime Lannister, Surfing, bad assed Brienne of Tarth (of course), no incest but Cersei is still a bitch, who am I kidding this fiction will end up an 'E', younger Brienne/older Jaime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 78,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikeblue/pseuds/ilikeblue
Summary: Jaime Lannister is surfing's reigning World Champion and golden boy.  Set to continue his winning streak, he finds himself face to face with a challenger that he never envisioned.  Brienne Tarth is a bundle of raw talent, fresh off a win in the Junior World tour and itching to prove she has what it takes to compete with the big boys. If that means taking Jaime Lannister's ego down a notch or two, so be it.This is a story with surfing as the tie that binds Jaime and Brienne, their matching drive and passion for the sport a force that brings them together and might tear them apart.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Tyrion Lannister & Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 379
Kudos: 338





	1. Ugly Duckling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightReaderEnigma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightReaderEnigma/gifts), [Ro_Nordmann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/gifts), [JailynnW](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/gifts), [Meriwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meriwyn/gifts).



> Thank you to Ro_Nordmann for designing the beautiful cover. Contains some reference to illicit drug use.

**_Season 1_ **

_Kraken Pro Event, Ironman’s Bay. Day 1._

_I feel old._

Jaime Lannister was, by any measure, a man in his prime.At twenty-nine he was not quick to fret the ravages of time, but staring at the back of the gangly boy in front of him, he felt every one of his golden summers. Surfing was a sport that prided itself on evening the playing field—equal rewards for women riders, no age limit—if you can catch the wave you can play. For this reason Jaime found himself standing in line to register for the first elite event of the season.Never mind that he was the reigning champion, had _won_ the damn tour four of the last five years.No, he would wait his turn, just like any other beach rat.

The young man had him by an inch if not two, it was hard to gauge with his slouching.Wide shoulders curled forward in a failed attempt to hide their breadth. Jaime’s eyes fixed on sun bleached hair poking wild through the back of a trucker hat. It looked like the ass end of some strange bird, and he swallowed a chuckle as it bobbed with the nervous shuffling of the boy’s feet.

_And Gods those feet._ They were wide as flippers and longer than his, ringed in calluses earned by wading through sand. The boy wore sandals, practical soles and thick leather bindings, Jaime found himself transfixed by the ridiculous number of freckles peeking out between the straps. It was only after prolonged watching, an inordinate amount of bored contemplation of whether he used sunblock at all and just how pale would the young man be if he did not live in the water, that Jaime noticed his toenails. _Bright pink._

_Odd_ —but not unheard of—surfers were a superstitious lot. Perhaps he thought it brought him luck, that the burn of the color would sear his flat feet to the board and make him nigh invincible. Jaime thought it more likely to be the man’s impressive calves, the corded muscles of his thighs that kept him crouched in the curl. On a lark he checked whether his hands matched. The fingernails were unpainted, cut close and neat, the digits long and tapered. An island of elegance in a sea rough with brute force. Jaime had a sudden urge to spin the boy around, to see what kind of face was attached to the mismatched body.

Instead he waited his turn in the queue, listening with interest as a hulking man who was obviously the young man’s father reached the registration desk.

“Brienne Tarth.” The older man spoke with quiet dignity, and Jaime flinched and pressed closer. His toes nearly brushing the man’s heels.

_Brienne._ _His_ _name is Brienne?_

_He?_

_No._

_She._ _Her_ _name is Brienne.Fuck.It’s a girl._

Shifting two steps to the right, Jaime tilted forward but her face was blocked by the massive girth of her father.He produced a folder of papers, opening to a letter of invitation, thumping the desk with blunted fingers. “She is the WSL Junior Champion two years running, and her degree of difficulty is equal to your best male competitors. She is qualified.”The man was a giant, but spoke with soft assurance, producing paper after paper to support his daughter’s right to compete. 

Jaime thought of his father. Tywin Lannister had rarely watched him surf, despite the fact that _Legacy Lines_ —the Lannister owned surfboard company Jaime helped develop—was the platinum sponsor of the Championship Tour.The roaring lion logo featured prominently on the pocket of every complementary shirt, on lanyard tags and signage dotting the beach.He wondered if his family would fight for him like this man did for his ugly ducking of a daughter.The idea was laughable.

The girl at the check in smiled sweetly—at least she had been trained well—and nodded at the documents. “Of course Mr. Tarth, it has all been arranged. Brienne is the wild card.” Jaime _did_ chuckle at that, wild card seemed a fitting description for the man-girl standing in front of him. 

The girl— _Brienne_ —took a step backward, searching for the sound. For the second time since she arrived at the front of the line, Jaime found himself shocked. _Her eyes._ Blue that rippled like shallows in sunlight, with a depth and sway that pulled him in.

_I could drown in those eyes_.

She scowled, brows pulling tight, lips pressed flat. He found himself thinking she might spit on him—or punch him—had her father not landed between them. Jaime resisted the urge to press her, to see what kind of steel was hidden in that massive spine. Something in the challenge of her jaw, the grind of her teeth lighting his own competitive fire. 

“Here is your registration packet, your competitor's lanyard, and one for your coach…” The polite girl stood to hang the straps around their necks, father and daughter ducking so she could reach their heads. “Good luck Miss Tarth.” 

Her father turned to leave, daughter shuffling shyly behind, and Jaime felt a pang of loss watching her go. She was a unicorn, a solitary mystery, and he rued that his moment of unrestrained arrogance had wounded her.

“Brienne.” He called after, watching her guarded expression as she twisted to meet his gaze. _Different eyes_ —dark—cloudy.“Surf well this weekend.” He extended his hand, held his breath until she squeezed it with her own, his smile broadening as he felt the callused palm where she gripped a board.

“You too mister…” She raised her brows in question, and his heart lurched at the fact that she didn’t know his name. _A silly reaction for an odd girl._

“Lannister…Jaime Lannister.”He saw her father’s face shift with recognition, but still she stared at him with guileless eyes. A meeting of kindred souls drawn to the waves, nothing more.

“Good luck Mr. Lannister.” She bit her lip, tilted her head to the side as if missing some joke, then huffed and turned. Stiffening her back and raising her chin, she stalked toward the dunes, ready for battle.

Jaime faced the perky check in girl, his grin unwavering as the she giggled conspiratorially. “And you might be?” He rolled his eyes as she reached under the desk for a large tote. “I have the V.I.P. package for you. Have a great weekend Mr. Lannister.”

He looked in the direction of Brienne, her cap and white blond hair visible above the crowd as she weaved between the spectators.

“It will at least be interesting.” He chuckled, following the sound of crashing surf.

**< ><><><><><>**

Jaime waded ashore after his warm-up to find the big girl sitting on her board, waiting to start her run. Being one of two wild cards, she was ranked lowest and would surf in the first group.There was a green tint to her pale skin and deep furrows around her mouth as she stared through him, focused on the rolling waves.

“You look scared.” He grabbed his towel from the sand, running it over his face and shoulders. “It was _your_ decision to play with the big boys, no changing your mind now girl.”She looked startled, finally noticing him in front of her. “Do I need to introduce myself again?” He smirked, watching a blush spread from the top of her wet suit to her ears.

“I know who you are.” She snarled the words, looking away from his gaze, Jaime felt his hairs bristle in reply. “…and my name is Brienne…not _girl_.” _So there is fire beneath those calm waters._ Better to surf angry than frightened.

“ _Well_ _Briennnne_ …” He dragged out her name, tasting the sound on his tongue. “There are plenty of people who would love your spot. Men who surfed the tour for years…who _earned_ their place.” She huffed to her feet, took a step forward to look down on him. “No one here is going to go soft because of your gender…or your age.”

“Just like they don’t take it easy on you because of _your_ age?” She cocked a brow at him, lips tilting with mirth. _There you are—the girl beneath the scowl._ Jaime broke into a begrudging smile.

“I’m like a fine Dornish red.” He lowered his lids, giving her what he hoped was a smoldering look.

“Overpriced and likely to make me nauseous.” Brienne lifted her chin, crossed her arms over her chest. Balling his fists, Jaime debated either cuffing her behind the head or tackling her to the sand, the blood hot in his veins. “I belong _here_.” Her eyes were blue as slate, deep seas beneath a stormy sky.

“Prove it.” He nodded to the crashing waves, grabbed his board and sauntered off.

**< ><><><><><>**

Jaime sat inside the golden Lannister tent, leaning forward as the first set of riders paddled and waited. Brienne was in the middle of the pack, and the waves were rolling in with smooth, long shoulders.He grinned, the sun would be hot and the surf even higher by the time his turn rolled around. 

“J-man!” He heard Theon approach before he saw him, a mass of shaggy hair and wiry beard skulking in the shadow behind his tent. How someone who looked near translucent in sunlight was such an amazing surfer was a mystery of the universe, once his feet touched water Theon became a brand new creature. Jaime was fairly certain he had gills tucked beneath the wayward curls and fins between his toes, the man was an artist on a board. “You ready to rumble?”

Theon plopped himself on the ground next to Jaime’s chair, extending a fist which Jaime met with a bump, not feeling any younger in this exchange. “Wouldn’t miss it Reek.” No one but his family called the young man by his name, instead using the descriptor.The boy _did_ smell, like day old wet joint and patchouli, Jaime doubted he had been unmedicated in years.Still, Theon was kind and soft spoken. Jaime liked him, no matter the vast differences in their personalities. “ _J-man_ makes me sound like an old fart trying to be hip. Please…call me Jaime.”

“Aw nah… _nah_. You’re hip man. Just in that too good looking and too loaded to give a fuck about the opinions of the masses sort of way. Besides, it doesn’t matter if you’re hip when you win.” Theon chuckled, dug his toes into the sand in comforting squeezes. “Saw you talking to the new girl.” He nodded in the direction of Brienne, broke into a sweet smile as he met Jaime’s gaze. “She’s _something_ huh? I texted Yara that she was here, I think sis wet her panties.”

“Yara knows Brienne?” It seemed an unlikely pairing, Theon’s younger sister was abrasive and loud, with enough talent to back up her big mouth. 

“She surfed against her two years ago, during her last tour in the Junior League. Brienne destroyed her.” The young man’s grin widened, he smoothed the sand with his hands. “Don’t tell her I said so…but she did.Brienne thrashed everyone, men and women alike, there was no competition for her there.”

“I guess that’s how she ended up here.” Jaime looked at her astride the board, head and shoulders above all the other competitors. There was something majestic in the way she carried herself in the water. If Theon transformed into a fish when wet, then Brienne was a sea goddess, the threat of roiling power and liquid annihilation at her fingertips. His heart sped waiting for her run. “So Yara dated Brienne?”

“ _Hah_ …only in her dreams.” He looked back toward the horizon, taking in the remaining riders. Two had completed their run, Brienne waited, bobbing on the surf. “Yara asked her out… _repeatedly_. Gods she was obsessed with the girl for almost a year, it was ridiculous. Never more than a polite ‘ _no thank you’_ in return.Sis couldn’t figure out if she wasn’t into girls, or just not interested in dating. Yara said she seemed _distanced_ from it all.”He patted Jaime on the knee. “Either way, she’s a good egg. Brienne and Yara parted as friends, and with my sister’s temper…that’s _something_.”

“Your sweet sister and mine have that in common.Cersei can be…difficult.” He shook his head, the understatement of the century.

“By _difficult_ you mean a conceited, wine sodden, back-stabbing bitch with shit for honor and zero work ethic?” Jaime’s brother Tyrion approached from the judges’ pavilion, handing Jaime and Theon expensive bottles of sparkling water before pulling up a chair. “Reek my boy, you appear relaxed as ever.”

Theon chuckled. “No need to sweat the small stuff little man…not when I get to work _here_.” He extended his arms, gesturing to the glittering expanse of white sand, the swaying palms. “What happened with Cers? I thought she modeled your brand.”

“She did.” Tyrion crossed his ankles, slid his shades over his eyes, scanning the horizon. “Until I decided that no amount of beauty was worth fighting every day. She was always late, drunk out of her mind, and made my photographers’ lives hell. Between her exorbitant salary and the wasted hours, Cersei’s shoots cost three times what they should have. I had to cut her loose, she was bleeding us dry.”

“Whew…” Theon whistled. “Yara would have my balls.”

“Well, lucky for me my sweet sister assumes dwarves don’t have genitals. We _are_ unfortunate beasts after all.” He pointed at Jaime. “It’s _his_ she’s really after…good thing my brother is quick.”

There was more truth than he wanted to admit in Tyrion’s words. He _had_ been running from his sister for the past year, avoiding her calls, leaving her texts unanswered. _I feel guilty._ He had failed his twin, unable to protect Cersei from her own worst tendencies. But _Legacy Lines_ was just that, _his legacy,_ something he and Tyrion built side by side and would leave to their own children—assuming either of them could get their shit together enough to have one. Maybe Cersei would win in the end, marry some rich bastard and pop out two or three kids to inherit all their hard work.He deserved it for giving up on her, karma can be a mean assed bitch.

Brienne floated, drifting up and down with inhuman calm. Jaime remembered her open face, those unlikely eyes. _Could she turn her back on someone she loved?_ The answer was clear in the way she and her father stood shoulder to shoulder at the check in desk, in the calm ferocity of his voice and her protective grimace. _Never._

Jaime saw the swell, watched with nervous glee as Brienne glanced over her right shoulder.A full, rich roll of water, just peaking on the horizon, time slowing for its languorous approach. “Paddle.” He whispered it under his breath, and on cue her arms cut into the darkness. He shifted to the edge of his chair, the conversation between Tyrion and Theon replaced by the sound of his heart thudding against his ribs, arms twitching in time with her movements as he leaned left, willing her in place. Frantic energy forced him to his feet, without thought he was halfway down the beach, one hand shading his eyes and the other balled at his side as he softly chanted. “Come on, come on…”

Her arms were flying now, long deep digs of water as her shoulders rolled like a machine. _Left—right—left—right._ And just like that it was upon her, board lifting as she popped to her feet. Jaime saw the moment, her thrill resonated in his bones, perched on the precipice, looking down a cliff of churning water and sand.Shells and rocks and _power_ rumbling beneath her feet. He closed his eyes, savoring her weightlessness, helpless and invincible, as likely to ride as to crash.

He smiled— _she smiled_ —and her board dropped over the edge, landing with purpose on the steep shoulder. Brienne fell instantly into a smooth bottom turn, weight forward as she cut the water with the inside rail, back hand drawing out a tail of spray. Shifting her weight to the back foot, she bounced once to gain momentum before flying up the vertical surface, long lines of board and rider silhouetted against the brilliant sky, a quick taste of air before flipping around and sliding back into the curl.

_She’s a tease._

He laughed out loud, unconcerned with the questioning glances around him.Brienne was playing with the water, bending it to her will, searching for the give point before letting loose. Leaning on the outside rail she sliced a wide curve before pushing the nose toward the crest and twisting her shoulders.The board obeyed her command, swinging counter clockwise until she faced the impact zone, bracing her knees as she met white water, a wall of foam inches from her face.Letting up on the tail she twisted clockwise, curling in a beautiful high arc away from the crashing wall, a perfect figure eight roundhouse cutback. Once more Brienne settled into a low, gliding line.

She should be done, most people would be. It was a respectable run. Brienne pumped her legs, flicked her tail. Jaime bounced on his toes. “Go Brienne..go…pump… _quick-quick_ …” There was a gap in the lip, a launch point, and she seized her window, cutting hard.Springing into the air, she floated high above the crest, board fixed to her wide feet by the inland breeze, gripping the nose in a showboat pose.

“Twist it…come on girl…you have the air.” But she held the line, riding clean and beautiful over the crashing surf, landing almost delicately on the shoulder. Sliding along the tail until she reached the shallows and unceremoniously stepped off the board. 

“Too safe girl.” Jaime spoke softly, realized immediately the silliness of that statement.This was her _first_ elite event, and Brienne had pulled off the best run so far, was guaranteed top five at day’s end. _She has more in her._ The thought hounded him, he knew it the way he knew himself.

Brienne strode ashore, dragging her board by the leash, greeted by her father in the shallows with a bottle of water and a broad smile. He took the board with one hand, put his arm around her wide shoulders and huddled his head with hers. As they reached shore he mimicked a crouch position, leaning first into his heels then shifting to balance on his toes. “Tell her dad.” Jaime grinned. “She’s too heavy on her back, it’s slowing her down. She needs to shift her hips too…” He watched for a few more minutes until it felt intrusive.Tyrion was watching him from the entrance to their tent, he too had been pulled to his feet by the end of Brienne’s run.

“Fuck me…did you see that?The girl killed it.” Tyrion shook his head, searching for Brienne on the beach. “Gods she is a giant. It’s too bad she looks like… _that_.” He crinkled his nose and Jaime felt a tightening in his stomach, an unease that he had trouble explaining. “She’s going to be huge…well she _is_ huge.” His brother laughed, Jaime winced. “We really need a fresh face for our brand, someone to reach the young and disenfranchised.”

“She could be it.” Jaime answered too quickly, Tyrion raised his brows. “Not everyone is born beautiful…you of _all_ people should understand that.” He was sounding defensive, his brother looked confused. “She’s not ugly— _not really_ — _just_ …awkward…plain. Her proportions are all wrong…and her teeth need work. But her eyes…”

“Big brother have you been ogling the ugly duckling…trying to convince me she’s a swan?” Tyrion grinned, it made something hurt.

“She’s a _girl_ …way too young for me to think about.” His brother harrumphed, took a seat under cover and Jaime followed. His discomfort ran deeper than discussion of Brienne’s age or appearance, to change her would destroy something brilliant. “Maybe I like ugly ducklings.”

Tyrion snickered. “You’re an odd duck yourself Mr. Lannister. Don’t you have to surf or something?” He made a shooing motion with his arms, and Jaime grabbed a water and his board. “Lay one down Jaime…no holding back.”

“Have you ever known me to hold back Tyrion?” Jaime jogged down the beach, looking for a quiet spot to stretch and visualize his run.

**< ><><><><><>**

Brienne stumbled out of the water, dragging her board, arms heavy and heart pounding. She was unable to swallow her smile as she met Selwyn Tarth’s proud eyes.

“You did it baby.” He took her board, handed her the water bottle he had been wringing between thick fingers as he sweated through her routine. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he whispered. “Are the nerves better now?”

She had spent the half hour before her turn covertly vomiting behind a dumpster in the nearest parking lot, not risking being heard in one of the stalls.That was the last thing she needed, to be known as a puker. She was already the freak girl, too burly for the women’s league, too delicate for the men’s. They had begrudgingly allowed her to surf—there wasn’t a legal leg to stand on if they refused.Her credentials were unquestionable, she _could_ compete with the men.

She nodded, the sea always settled her.It was the only place she felt free.In the water she was weightless, the rise and fall of swells a lullaby for her soul.There she could close her eyes and let the sun burn away all her self-loathing and doubt.The waves did not judge. She was their companion, their master, their lover.Brienne was built for their embrace, her muscled arms and firm shoulders gripped them tight, thick legs dipping into dark depths with abandon.If one day they swallowed her whole, she would be home.

“Jaime Lannister is watching you.”Brienne turned bright red, hoping it looked like a flush from exertion rather than embarrassment. Her father chuckled. “Don’t you read _Surfer_ magazine?”

She refrained from replying that only old people read magazines. _Of course_ _she had seen pictures of Jaime Lannister._ Seven hells, the roundhouse she just pulled off was straight out of _his_ videos. If nothing else she should have recognized the voice— _he narrated the damn thing._ But she had been so flustered at the check in, worried they would realize their mistake and turn her away, it’s a wonder she knew her own name.

And then he had looked at her with _those eyes_ , and _that jaw_ , and gods he was too beautiful to breathe the same air.She somehow managed to shake his hand without passing out, caught off guard by the kindness in his face. Scraping together the scattered shreds of her dignity, she wished him luck in return, then scurried off with the intention of never speaking to him again.

Until she _did—_ and he was infuriating—cocky and condescending. Her stomach was already in her throat, and he went on and on about her age and earning her spot. _Oh gods, I called the golden lion old._

“Is he still looking?” Her father stole a sideways glance, gave a barely there nod, Brienne whined. “He probably wonders how someone so stupid remembers which foot to place in front of the other.”

Selwyn dropped the board, moved into a crouch, and she couldn’t stop smiling at his goofy expression. “You see my dear, you place your pretty feet…” She groaned loudly, he shushed her. “…your _big capable_ feet like so, and you bend your knees like this…but sometimes…” He met her eyes and looked almost serious. “…you lean too far over your butt and slow yourself down, when you should be pressing into the nose and slicing the water.” Her father shifted his weight, making the point. Brienne glanced back at Lannister, saw his lips moving. _Did he just say “dad”—is he talking about us?_

“You pulled out of the twist on the final air.” Her father’s voice drew her back to their conversation. He raised bushy brows in question.

“I thought I was moving too slow and…” She paused, it felt like admitting defeat. “I just wanted a solid run under my belt.” He nodded, satisfied with her answer.

“Just don’t surf scared, it never works.” Selwyn motioned over her shoulder. “You’re being hailed.”

Brienne mouthed _“help me”_ before turning around, shocked to see a very short man waving both arms, his face split in a knowing grin. Relieved it wasn’t Jaime waiting to reintroduce himself one more time for good measure, she reluctantly trudged up the dunes.

“Hi…I’m Tyrion Lannister…Jaime’s brother.And you’re Brienne.” He extended a hand, she bent to shake it. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“Oh…gods.” She nearly whimpered, and Tyrion laughed in reply.

“Come now, you seem to have made quite the impression on my brother. He was all a twitter during your run.” Brienne felt herself blushing, tried unsuccessfully to fight the tide. Tyrion’s eyes widened, her cheeks burned under his stare. “And Theon Greyjoy told us all about you and Yara…”

“I _didn’t_ …we weren’t.” Brienne cut him off, struggling to give a proper reply. “Yara is talented..and pretty. I was flattered, she’s just…a _she_.” Finding a darker shade of pink, she placed her hands flush to her face to cool the flaming skin.

“How old are you Brienne Tarth?” Tyrion moved inside his tent, motioned for her to follow as he plopped down on a towel.

“Eighteen.” She let it hang between them, feeling neither old nor young in that moment. Digging her fingers in the sand, she carved little holes. “I didn’t recognize your brother at the check in desk…I’m sure he told you…”

Tyrion started to laugh, clutched his heart in false dismay. “The Seven hate me. _Why_ wasn’t I in line with him this time?” He flopped on his back, turned to stare at her. “Did you blow him off? Tell me you were at least dismissive…cold perhaps?”

“I implied that he was old.” Tyrion guffawed at that, Brienne found her embarrassment lessening in his presence.

“I think you’re my new best friend. Jaime’s ego could use the beating.” He pointed to his brother paddling out for his first run, golden hair shining as he slid over the rolling tide. “Unfortunately the fucker has both the talent and the looks to pull off his cocky attitude.”

“Hmm.” She would not comment on Jaime’s looks in front of his brother.His talent was a given.

Tyrion glanced sideways at her, seemed to follow the path of her eyes. “Hmm indeed.”

Brienne sensed Tyrion’s dissecting scrutiny, knew he wanted her to say something more, but she just didn’t have it in her. The first run had been tiring, it was hot and she had emptied her stomach of breakfast hours ago.In less than a day she met her idol and managed to insult him _—twice—_ finding Jaime Lannister simultaneously genuine and exasperating. Now she was chatting with one of the most influential men in the sport feeling like a bug under glass.

“Who sponsors you?” The question came out of nowhere, catching Brienne off guard.

“What?” She tried to pay attention, was distracted by an approaching swell. Jaime ignored it.

“Which brand do you represent…who provides your equipment?” Brienne pulled at the edge of her worn wet suit, watching Jaime drift in the surf.

“N-no brand.” The idea was preposterous, companies did not want their logo adorning her awkward frame.Brienne did not covet that weight around her neck, another expectation she couldn’t meet. “I pay my own way.”

Tyrion nodded. “Very honorable.” He narrowed his eyes in a way that Brienne could not interpret, boring into her center and dredging out her ugly secrets. “But if you do as well as I anticipate this tour, sponsors _will_ want you.”

Brienne pressed her lips tight, shook her head. “No…they _won’t._ ”

The day she won her first Junior Championships, Brienne watched as a representative from Lannister Corporation approached both the second and third place finishers, offering the girls lucrative contracts to promote _Legacy Lines_ in the subsequent tour.After winning again the next year she waited, sure a big name board company would contact her—no one did. They hadn’t then, and they wouldn’t now.“I’m not _poster material_.”

“Who told you that?” Tyrion smiled, trying to make light of it.

Leveling him with a piercing gaze, she squared her large shoulders. “ _You_ did Mr. Lannister…along with several others.” He recoiled slightly, opened his mouth to protest, but Brienne ended the conversation with a cool look. She had a job to do, and it didn’t involve his game of false promises.

Brienne leaned forward, squinting toward the horizon. “He’s going.” The swell rose behind him, alone in the flats it rumbled and bent in rolling supplication.Jaime shot forward, board cutting the water, a clean slice that sealed behind him leaving no trace of wake. Other surfers challenged the waves for dominance. Jaime _danced_ with them, parting their watery folds, man and might finding a balance that was beautiful.

Hitting his spot perfectly, Jaime paused, letting the crest catch _him_ as he floated to his feet at the edge of the fall. Brienne’s breath stilled, he crouched and swayed into the abyss, teetering for one stretched second before dropping into the chute. She felt the air gush through parted lips, heard her voice before she could silence it. “ _Gods_ …he’s magnificent…”

There was a chuckle to her left, she cut her eyes at Tyrion who held up both hands in surrender.“I won’t tell him…and _he is_.” Brienne bobbed her head, felt the heat stain her chest as her mouth twisted in a small smile. 

Jaime banked into the bottom, long and loose, fingers tangling in the wall of water, setting off sparks of spray. He pumped his legs once and lifted into the air, hooking the board and flipping it lengthwise in a move that reminded Brienne of a kid popping a skateboard. He was carefree _—ageless—_ golden hair whipping about his face, the sharp line of his jaw softened by mist. Giving the tail a flick he rolled inward, guiding his board up the shoulder until he floated on the lip, skidding along the rail before slipping back into the trench.

Brienne _sighed_ —a strange kind of desire gathering in the pit of her stomach—jealous of the way Jaime slid through the water, how he courted its caress. “Show me something Lannister.” Her voice was gravel, Tyrion’s stare felt hot on her face, but she was too enraptured to care.The funnel narrowed, Jaime picked up speed, tightening his crouch.

Shifting his weight he bounced the board, whipped the tail, flirting with the surf, gathering momentum. Carving hard he shot up the curl, thrusted over the crest and launched into air.Mid-flight he gripped the nose and _twisted_.Rider and board tumbling through a breathtaking barrel roll that left Jaime momentarily upside down, clutching the board like a lover. Brienne’s gaze lingered on his hands, captivated by the strength of his fingers, the way his muscles bunched around the board. Her mouth fell open with a tiny groan— _oh Gods if Tyrion heard that_ —she snapped her jaw shut with a clack of teeth.

Light as a cat Jaime tucked his feet beneath him, landing backward on the shoulder, spinning as white water rumbled at his heels. He made a few more deep slashes, finishing the run.

“Rodeo flip?” Brienne was kneeling, had crept forward during his ride. “…a gods damned _rodeo flip?_ No one hits that on demand…just… _shit._ ” Tyrion laughed behind her. Growling, she tossed sand in his direction before standing.

“He’ll be insufferable for the rest of the day.You really need to step it up and kick his ass tomorrow girl.”

Clenching her jaw. “Not _girl_ …my name is…”

“ _Briennnne…_ I know.” He was grinning at her again, the look half mocking, half sincere affection. For Tyrion, the two seemed to go hand in hand.

“ _Lannisters_.” She huffed, storming down the beach.

**< ><><><><><>**

Jaime sought her out after his turn, hair stiff and damp, he dropped onto the end of her towel without invitation. 

“I saw your ride.” She tried to keep the awe out of her voice, lowering the octave, flattening the peaks. “It was…”

“Okay right?” He flicked the water from his hair with both hands, Brienne was staring at his fingers again, the way the tendons in his forearms shifted with the movement. “Not bad for an old guy anyway.”

“ _Stop_ that…you’re not…” Jaime hunched, shaking droplets into the sand.He gazed at her through squinted eyes, and she lost her voice. He was _too much._ Brienne looked to the waves, thinking of how he twisted through the air. “Your ride was _breathtaking_.” She sighed the word, it rumbled deep in her chest.

He froze, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar, then wiped the look away so fast she thought it imagined. “Why did you hold back?” Shocking her with his directness, no preface of _nice job_ or _great score._ Straight to the bones of it.

“I was afraid of what _they_ would say if I missed.” She nodded in the direction of a group of surfers standing together, watching the other contestants.

“You wussed out on the air, but it was an amazing first run…and they are saying ‘ _she shouldn’t be here’_.” Brienne scrunched her face, and he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “If you attempted the 360 and fell flat on your face they would say ‘ _she shouldn’t be here’._ ” The setting sun in his eyes was like a flame, the words caught fire in his throat. “Even if you threw it down—slayed it fast and tight, with big movement and towering air—they would find something else to talk about.Your teeth are large…your lips too puffy and broad…your shoulders ripple when you walk making all the other contestants look like frail little boys in comparison.” She jerked her head upright, his lips twitched in anticipation of her reaction.

“Anything else?” She raised a brow, fought back a fraction of a smile.

“You have a terrifying number of freckles.” He found her breaking point, Brienne jabbed him in the ribs with two fingers, hard enough to bruise. Jaime scooted away, yelping and smacking.

“You’re an ass Lannister.” She moved to stand, grabbing her hand he locked her in his stare.

“If I miss once… _just once_ …they will say I’m through. _Put him out to pasture._ ” His eyes burned, branding her with their green heat. “So I work relentlessly, hone my craft, care for my body…” He shook his head, a look like sadness. “…and when I make a perfect run— _just like the hundred times I practiced it with no one watching_ —then it must be luck _right_?The rich boy who bought his success with daddy’s money, who probably paid off the judges.” He squeezed her hand tighter, leaned into her space.“They will _find_ a reason to hate you, because they can never _be_ you.”

“So what do you do?” She was staring at him wide eyed, his isolated pain filling the space between them.

“I beat them…I _keep_ beating them…until I can’t.”

She squared her jaw, squeezed his hand in return. “ _We’ll_ beat them.”

Jaime’s lips curled back from his teeth, feral and challenging. “And then I’ll beat _you_.” Brienne growled, tried to release his hand but he locked her fingers in his, they ached with the pressure. _Gods those hands._

“In your dreams old man.” Her breath came ragged, panting through an open mouth.

He released her with a laugh, the sound bright and crisp, outshining the waves. “See you later duck.”

“ _Duck_?”

“You look like a giant duck… _here_ …” Jaime ruffled the white-blonde hair sticking off the back of her head in a peak.“…and _here._ ” He brushed her large, flat feet with one of his.“I noticed it at check in.”

“You thought I was a _boy._ ” She stood, put a hand on her thick waist.

“A boy duck perhaps…but I know better now.”Shaking her head, she snatched her towel from under him.

“Bring it.” Jaime whispered the command. She nodded slightly.

_Infuriating man._

__


	2. Peaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You own a beach?” She stopped dumbfounded, and he snickered.
> 
> “No…we’re rich but…” He looked at his feet and Brienne flushed with her blunder. “This was where I learned to surf.” His voice brushed hot against her skin, as if mentioning a mistress. 
> 
> “…oh.” She felt it—he belonged here—in this perfect spot that smelled ripe with life, where the mist hung heavy, and salt gathered on her lips. 
> 
> “Now I’m sharing it with you.” He smiled that soft smile, the one that drew her in and made her wary. Grabbing his board he sauntered toward the shoreline, looking once over his shoulder to shout. “Hurry duck!”

<><><><><><>

_Lannisport Elite at Feast Fires Point. Day 1._

“Dad… _hey dad_ …” Brienne shook Selwyn’s shoulder, he snorted awake with a confused look.They were staying at a cheap inland hotel, an hour from the beach. It beat sleeping on an inflatable mattress in the bed of his pick-up.

“I-it’s early…” Voice heavy from sleep, he dropped back into the pillow with a groan.

“I found a beach…” It was an old familiar song between them.

“What time is it?” Her father had a septon’s patience.

“A little after three…if we leave now I can get an hour in the water and arrive in time to check in at the Fires.” She was wringing her hands, but he would understand.

“Brienne…I don’t want you worn out.” He was already pushing back the covers, searching for his clothes.

“Better to be tired than scared shitless.” Her father grumbled in acquiescence, collecting their small bag of toiletries. “You _know_ the waves calm me.If I can just get my feet wet…I don’t want to be crouching behind a dumpster later.”

“Well, you still pulled off a heck of a run.” He grinned, bushy brows rising in question. “But if you think this will help…” She nodded, Selwyn grunted in reply. “Pull on your wet suit, I’ll load the truck.”

As the sky softened to grey they were winding along an unmarked dirt path that cut through an abandoned orchard before emptying out behind the dunes.“How did you find this again Brienne?” Her father searched for the beach access road.

“A surfer blog said it was corduroy to the horizon at sunrise…almost always empty. Locals only.” She rolled down the window and the sticky sweet smell of fallen fruit filled the cab, Brienne drew a gulping lung-full. “I guess that’s why they call this spot _Peaches_.” Her face parted in a silly grin, eyes watering from the wind whipping through the cab, the thick tang of sea spray gradually overpowering all other scents. As they pulled onto the sand the sun was just peaking over the horizon, turning the rolling crests golden.

“Seems like you have company.”Her father nodded to a bright red Jeep parked nearby, a lone figure seated on the hood watching the water light up. There was a familiar board propped against the rack, a familiar jawline gilded by the gathering dawn.

Brienne hopped from the truck, her steps hostile and accusatory as she rounded on him. All hope of settling her nerves evaporating in his troubling presence. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“And a good morning to you too.” His green eyes glistened, cutting in the glow off the sea. “I could ask you the same thing. This is _my_ beach.”

“You own a beach?” She stopped dumbfounded, and he snickered.

“No…we’re rich but…” He looked at his feet and Brienne flushed with her blunder. “This was where I learned to surf.” His voice brushed hot against her skin, as if mentioning a mistress. 

“…oh.” She felt it— _he belonged here_ —in this perfect spot that smelled ripe with life, where the mist hung heavy, and salt gathered on her lips.

“Now I’m sharing it with you.” He smiled that soft smile, the one that drew her in and made her wary. Grabbing his board he sauntered toward the shoreline, looking once over his shoulder to shout. “Hurry duck!”

Rolling her eyes at her father’s amused stare she lifted her board and trudged after him.

“This place…it’s something special.” They paddled side by side, Brienne ignoring the fact that their fingers occasionally brushed under the water. “Who taught you to surf?”

“No one really.” He straddled the board, rising and dipping with the swells. “I grew up half an hour away, outside of Lannisport. My friends would skip school and ride waves all day, then light a bonfire with deadwood from the orchard.They showed me the ropes…soon I was hitching rides every chance I got.” Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, his face softened with longing. “It smells like home.”

They drifted without purpose, letting a few good waves slip by ignored.The sun baked her bones, the lift and fall lulling her into relaxed contentment. Eventually a perfect swell crept over the horizon, reflexively they paddled to meet it.“This one looks big enough for two…you first duck.”

Brienne fell gently into the curl, limbs strong and loose, muscles firing with an easy grace that usually eluded her. There was a charge in the air—it _crackled_ between them—Jaime slipped into the pocket at her back, his heavy presence spurring her on.She flew across the water, carving and soaring as the wind battered her face, eyes burning with spray.Lightning quick she climbed the face, launching and twisting, eyes locking with his for one stolen moment as she spun in a tight turn. Jaime’s face lit with joy, whooping as she soared above him.

He mimicked her movements, floating and spinning above the lip with a grace that stole her breath, then skidded to a halt beside her in the shallows. “ _Holy shit_ …just… _shit_! You did that _—you—_ it was beautiful. The biggest alley oop I’ve ever seen.” He splashed through the receding surf, throwing his arms around her in a tight hug.

Brienne froze as her face pressed into his hair, Jaime’s mouth carelessly brushing her shoulder.She savored his scent for one— _then two_ breaths—a musky, fishy swirl of sweat and seawater, sunblock and soap. Tasting his sweetness as she brushed her lip with the tip of her tongue.

_Silly girl._

She pulled away, clapping his shoulder affectionately. “What about you? That was pretty sick.” He grinned, facing the rumbling peaks.

“Again?” Eyebrows raised he paddled, Brienne following eagerly.They surfed in silence for another hour, a series of mediocre runs punctuated by the occasional spectacular wipe out. Jaime seemed to relish flying off his board at the exact instant that would land him closest to Brienne, the explosive crash of water knocking her sideways.

They finished limber and laughing, Jaime tugged both their boards to shore as Brienne trailed behind him. “Why do you do that?” She nodded at her leash in his hand.

“What?” He looked genuinely perplexed.

“Act like I’m some weak girl.” He chuckled, braced a board under each arm as he trudged through the soft wet sand near shore.

“You’re strong as an ox, and twice as stubborn.” She grunted, flicking water in his direction. “Unlikely as it seems…you _are_ a girl.” Jaime pressed the board into her hands. “Allow me to treat you like a lady Brienne…at least when no one is watching.” She looked away as color streaked up her chest, a quiet “hmm” of acceptance slipping through her lips.

“Do you want a lift?” He called back, stowing his gear.

“No…I’ll go with dad.” Her father sat in the truck, watching their exchange with puzzled interest.

“Okay, well…see you soon.” Jaime hopped in his Jeep and sped off through the orchard.

Selwyn’s voice was soft, she could hear the concern rumbling beneath the surface. “What’s going on Brienne?”

She stared at the cloud of dirt Jaime left behind, feeling the ground shift between them. “I don’t have a clue.”

<><><><><><>

By the time she reached the registration line, Jaime was missing. “He must know a short cut.” Her father grunted, struggling with a large cooler. Brienne was dragging a ratty collapsable tent, already wet with sweat in the early morning sun.

Her performance in the first contest paid off, she was ranked third coming into the weekend. When she let herself think about it, it made her a little giddy. Thirty-fourth to third place was unheard of, especially for a newbie.

“Brienne…hey Brienne.” She heard him coming, waving and smiling, spotless and shining. He walked up to her father, grabbed one end of the cooler.“Mr. Tarth…I’ve never formally introduced myself…Jaime Lannister.”

“Mr. Lannister…I’d shake but…” Her father indicated the cooler. Jamie grinned in reply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a big fan of your surfing.”

“Call me Jaime.” He motioned over his shoulder, in the direction of the beach.“I’ve saved a space next to my pavilion, and asked the caterers to include you both in the lunch count.” He caught Brienne’s eye, gave a quick wink. “I’ll be back to help with the tent duck.” She watched as Jaime and her father walked off together, falling into an easy rapport.

Brienne reached the front of the line, met the same perky check in girl as the week before.“Hello I’m…”

“Miss Tarth.” The girl smiled brightly. “Mr. Lannister said to expect you. I have your _Legacy Lines_ V.I.P. bag, and the registration is all handled.” Brienne took the red and gold tote, turned to leave before swiveling back.

“Just out of curiosity, how did he describe me?” The girl looked confused. “Mr. Lannister…when he said to expect…”

“Oh yes.” She blushed, Brienne braced for the worst. “He said to expect a ‘very tall, very blonde…very, _very_ impressive looking woman to show up hot and bothered.’” The girl giggled, covered her mouth. “You’re not _that_ bothered looking.”

“I suppose not.” Brienne snorted, the girl giggled louder. “See you next time.”

“I hope you surf well this weekend Miss Tarth.”

“That makes two of us.” Brienne wandered off, dragging her tent and tote, determined that Jaime Lannister was _not_ going to get in her head.

<><><><><><>

_Lannisport Elite at Feast Fires Point. Day 2._

_Gods she is fucking furious._

Jaime finished his run first, a clean go of it with okay speed and middling air. Enough to keep him in first place. He’d waited with board on hip and ankles in the surf for Brienne to ride.

She’d started out okay, low and steady, slicing the water with meticulous lines, hitting the lip just so—then it all went to shit.  
Her feet skidded out and she flipped off the board, taking a rough tumble down the back side that was terrifying to watch.Jaime took four running steps in her direction, splashing frantically through the spray, until he saw her white head pop up and exhaled in relief.

Brienne punished the water, pounding it with her fists as she paddled in, kicking and snarling her way through the shore breaks.Her scowl deepened when she saw him, vicious eyes capturing and holding his stare. She was passion and fire, the water seeming to churn and boil around her thighs as she stalked to shore.Something tore free in Jaime’s chest at the sight of her, a heat to mach her own settling low in his gut as she held his gaze, daring him to mock her.

He grabbed her wrist as she passed, Brienne yanked back but he refused to yield, mindlessly rubbing the soft skin with his thumb.“Hey… _hey_ …are you okay?” Her eyes were glassy and wild. “Everyone falls Brienne.”

Waking from her trance she heaved the board ashore, it flew ten feet before skidding along the beach. “That’s easy for _you_ to say.” She turned on him growling. “I _need_ to place this weekend— _I need the money_ —to pay for gas, food, the next hotel. Some of us have to earn our keep Lannister.” Her face inches from his, she bit her lip to stop more sharp words from tumbling out.

“Come here.” He dragged her to the board, nudged her on with his thigh. “Show me your stance.” She did as asked, seething as she complied.

He moved behind her, gripped her hips, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that should have bothered him if he wasn’t so caught up in her heat. “Your balance is wonky today.” Pulling back he forced her crouch deeper,batting at her feet with his until she widened their placement. “See…better?” 

Jaime noticed the pack of surfers staring, their open laughter, the way they tilted their heads and sneered.“Is that how you take her Lannister? Can’t say I blame you.” A man with more mouth than talent stepped forward, poked at Jaime like a child with a stick.

Automatically he stepped in front of Brienne, shielding her from the man’s venom. “You would know something about that Hunt, having spent a career staring at the asses of better surfers.” Watching him redden with rage, Jaime dug his heels in, burning with indignant fire. “What place are you in— _thirty-third—_ or is it thirty-fourth after today? That last ride was…unfortunate.”

The man’s lip curled. “You like collecting freaks don’t you? With that brother of yours…”

“Watch it boy.” Any hint of humor faded away, leaving only cold hatred and barely checked power.

“Or _what_ old man? Gonna beg your girlfriend to shut me up?” Hunt looked through him with a leer. “Maybe she could wrap those fat lips around…”

“ _Enough!_ ” Erupting in a roar, he lunged forward, intent on loosening some teeth.A hand on his elbow stopped him.

“Don’t…just _don’t_.” Brienne was instantly soft, her voice a whisper against his neck. “I need you to _win_.”

“Brienne…I can’t let him talk that way…” Anger hummed in his veins, set his ears buzzing.

“They _do_ …they _will_ …remember?” Brienne slid her hand to his shoulder, Jaime fought the tremor it ignited. “Even with a good run later, I’m out of the race this weekend. I need you to beat them _—badly—_ so they will _shut-the-fuck-up.” S_ he held him in her stormy eyes. “Can you do that for me Lannister?”

Releasing a breath, he let the fire settle in his core, molded it from fury to aggression. “Anything for you duck.”

His run that afternoon was inhuman. Cold _—calculated—_ explosions of force that utterly decimated the field. The whispers and rumors surrounding him changed direction.

_Jaime Lannister is having the tour of a lifetime._

_< ><><><><><>_

_Lannisport Elite at Feast Fires Point. Day 3._

Jaime finished the weekend in first place— _by a mile_.Brienne dropped from third to fourth, trailing Loras and Oberyn, but the gap was not insurmountable. _It could be worse._ She comforted herself replaying today’s runs, both were more than respectable and had pulled her up in the standings.

She was packing up her gear when Theon arrived carrying a cooler. “Hey Jaime…I have the leftover food from concessions.”He nodded at the large white container. “This one and two others.Lots of extra this weekend. Be right back…” He headed out the way he came.

Tyrion stared at the cooler, turned to Jaime who was busy putting T-shirts in boxes. “That’s not fitting in your Jeep.”

“I’ll make a few trips. They need the food, and the shirts will be appreciated too…” He was busy making a pile outside the tent as Lannister workers bustled about, taking down signs, carrying chairs and tables to waiting trucks.

“Can you use these?” Oberyn Martell approached holding up a towel with the _Viper Strike_ logo emblazoned in orange. “They’re dated, so we can’t hand them out next competition. I have two boxes left.”

Jaime nodded toward his growing collection. “Of course Oberyn, just put them with the rest…and thanks.” The other man smiled in reply before quietly slipping away.

“What’s going on?” Brienne stopped packing to stare, fascinated by the flurry of activity in the adjacent space.

“Jaime takes anything useful to tent city.” Tyrion read her confusion. “Homeless surfers…there’s a whole community a few miles from here.He takes them food, clothing…whatever promotional merchandise the surf companies can spare.” He grinned. “My brother hides his soft underbelly well.”Jaime avoided her gaze, a walking contradiction, simultaneously hated and respected by everyone on tour.

_They hate me because I’m better._

She heard his voice in her head now. _That can’t be good._

“I have a truck.” Her words tumbled out, instantly rewarded with Jaime’s surprised attention. “We could probably fit it all.” He

softened, became almost too handsome to bear. Brienne hid from the pull of him, searching for the keys.

“I could use some help lifting shit too.” His teasing cut through the awkwardness, reset the balance between them.

“Don’t press your luck pretty boy.” Jaime made a pleased little sound in the back of his throat.

“ _Sooo_ much better than ‘ _old man_ ’…” She hummed in reply. “…you think I’m pretty duck?”

“I think you’re insufferable.”

The bumpy dirt road ran parallel to the beach, they traveled in silence for a mile or two, comfortably weary from sun and exertion.“Thank you for helping me.” His voice was quiet—no joking, no brash arrogance—just _real_. It felt warm, like a hug.

“No problem.” It really wasn’t. Her father waited with Jaime’s Jeep and her tent, the drive at most fifteen minutes each way.A little thing to ask. “Why do you do it?”

“It could be me.” Jaime was still using _that_ voice, warm and honest. “I was a messed up kid, heavy into drugs and alcohol.” He paused, took a few deep breaths. “Oppositional defiant…that’s what the child-shrink called it. Combine that with the addictive tendencies my twin and I _obviously_ inherited, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Jaime…everyone goes through rough patches…” He was so raw, she looked for the right words to soothe him.

“No.” _Firm. Certain._ “There is order to the waves, a rhythm to the movements. It focused my anger, gave my life purpose. Without surfing I would be lost.” He bowed his head in silent reflection. Brienne kept her hands tight on the wheel, wanting to touch him. “I pay penance for what could have been.” They rode the rest of the way in silence, until Jaime pointed out the unmarked camp entrance.

The handoff went quickly.It was obvious that they knew Jaime, had expected him to show up.Grateful hugs were granted, warm wishes for him to surf well this tour. They were halfway back to her father before he spoke again.

“We have a couple of weeks off…you heading home?” His tone was lighter, still subdued.

“For a few days. Galladon has a competition next weekend.”

“Galladon?” He raised his brows and she blinked, surprised for a second that he didn’t recognize the name. At times it felt like she had known Jaime her whole life. 

“My older brother, he’s a surfer too.” She stumbled to a halt, loyalty catching her throat.

“You never mentioned him before.”Brienne turned to look at Jaime, realizing to her dismay that he was just as god-like slumped against the passenger window of her truck as he was standing tall and golden on the crest of a wave.A silver statue in the moonlight.

“It’s just…I beat him.”From the corner of her eye she saw him lean forward, giving her his full attention.“He’s competed for years, trying to make the elite tour, and I took that from him.”

“You’re embarrassed?” He was frowning, Brienne felt her face burn, grateful for the darkness. It was terrifying how well he could read her expression.

“I’m not embarrassed by _him_.” She sighed, gripping the steering wheel more tightly. “I love my brother, he’s an amazing person…kind…and so talented. Just…”

“Not as good as you.” Jaime’s tone was blessedly neutral.

“No.” It sat there—unadorned. _He isn’t. He may never be._

“Would he claim your spot?” She flinched, opened her mouth to object. “If you quit tomorrow—told him to take it—would he?”

“He would want to earn it.” Her reply was instantaneous, she felt a weight lift with saying it. Galladon did not begrudge her this opportunity. _Not Galladon._

“Sometimes the best we can do is be there. _Go._ Watch your brother surf, support him any way you can…but don’t let guilt taint your happiness. You’re an amazing surfer Brienne.” Jaime patted her knee, she felt the heat of his hand through her jeans.“We can’t all be superstars.”There was a bit of the swagger back, a laugh in his eyes. Pulling into the lot, they parked next to his Jeep.

“This was nice.” She said it without thought, the moon off the water lit his bright smile. 

“Would you like…” Jaime gave a huff, more frustrated than amused, shook his head in self reprimand, let the question die. Patting her shoulder, he slid out of the cab. “See you in a few weeks…tell your brother to lay one down for me.”

“We’ll go watch him together sometime.” _Oh gods, where did that come from?_ She tried to fathom a way to take it back, seem less desperate.

“I’d like that.” He thumped the roof of her truck, grinning as he walked away.

_< ><><><><><>_

Dinner at the his father’s Casterly Rock estate was an uncomfortable tradition following competitions in Lannisport. It was referred to as a “standing invitation,” but Jaime recognized a summons when one was issued.He laughed, a bitter little sound that slipped from his lips as he pulled into the drive.For one absurd second he had considered inviting Brienne and her father to dinner. His duck roaming amongst the lions. _They_ _would swallow her alive._

This evening he found himself in the unexpected position of having nothing to argue about with his father.His performance on the tour was exceeding even his own rigorous expectations, as a result _Legacy_ _Lines’_ sales were fifteen percent over projections.Tywin might not care about his “ _adolescent preoccupation_ ” with surfing, but he did care about the bottom line.Jaime was simultaneously representing the family well and making money, for his father he assumed that was the equivalent of a wet dream.

Cersei showed up tipsy and snarked her way through dinner, uncharacteristically quiet while Tyrion previewed the new swimwear collection. _The one she should be modeling._ Jaime felt the traitorous revolt of his heart every time his brother showed him head shots of other _—younger—_ girls being considered for the job.Even though she was much too thin, worn down from booze and sleepless nights, Cersei glowed. His twin should be the face of their company, he _owed_ her that.If only he could straighten out that fucked up head of hers, get her to show up, eat right, take something seriously.

His sister left early, as usual, and Tywin retired to his study to glare at a screen full of numbers. Tyrion outdid himself by breaking into his father’s humidor and liquor cabinet— _the one with the good stuff_ —in record time.Jaime settled in for a peaceful stretch with his little brother, watching the Sunset Sea turn red, smoking a cuban and sipping single malt.

“You were on fire this weekend.” Tyrion raised his glass, puffed smoke in the salt air.“Any idea what might have driven you to surf like a man possessed…not that I’m complaining. We probably sold a dozen boards yesterday at the local shop alone.”

“Some days the waves speak to me.” Jaime avoided his brother’s gaze, a question from Tyrion was never straight forward, he struggled to dodge the implications.

“Brienne had a rough day yesterday.” It seemed like a change in topic, Jaime knew better. “Heard you gave her some pointers.” Tyrionput the tumbler to his mouth, unable to hide a grin that extended to his eyes.

“Hyle was out of line. I should have shut his mouth with my fist.” Jaime put down his glass with a clack.“She doesn’t deserve…”

“Yes, _yes_ …I’m well aware of your carefully hidden bleeding heart…your affinity for the disfigured and downtrodden.”

“ _Fuck you!_ ” The words galloped up his throat before he could think, his brother smirked in knowing triumph.

“I’m fairly certain your tastes run taller….much, _much_ taller.” Tyrion stood to refill his glass, raised the bottle to Jaime in question. He declined.“If it matters, I like her too. She’s sweet, unassuming, occasionally terrifying…and your equal in both natural talent and deep rooted insecurity.” He puffed his cigar, propped his feet on the railing. “Does she know?”

“Know?” Jaime played dense, hoping his brother would let it drop.

“That you’d like to see what she’s hiding under the wet suit.” _No such luck._ “Or _may-be_ you already know. You practically woke up together a few days ago.”

“We ended up at the same beach at the same time. _Nothing more_.” Jaime shook his head, this needed to stop. “Brienne’s a girl Tyrion.”

“She’s legal.” Pinning Jaime with that too clever stare. “Don’t you believe in kismet?”

“I believe in dating a grown up.”He recognized the slip as soon as he said it.

“Ohhh…‘ _dating’_ is it?” Tyrion was practically salivating. “I thought we were discussing a noncommittal shag, not ‘ _dating’_ …”

“Stop Tyrion. _Just. Stop._ I’m not doing anything with Brienne—no dating— _no sex_ …”

“No fun.” His brother grumbled in displeasure.

“She’s a friend. It could go wrong and…” Hyle’s words cut through his thoughts, people already assumed. “Brienne has a lot to deal with. Her finances are tight.”

“You still think she could represent _Legacy Lines_?” Tyron sounded skeptical, Jaime didn’t blame him.

“I know she has the skills, barring an injury she will be a major player on the tour for years. But her confidence…” He tried to picture Brienne modeling a bathing suit—all _scowl_ and _hunch_ and _blush_. _Gods, I would pay to watch._ “She needs to start small.”

“Maybe I could use company pull to get her the cover of _Surfer_? All that advertising money should buy us something.” He could see the gears turning in Tyrion’s head. “We could ask for Renly to shoot it…smother her with Baratheon charm.” Jaime snorted, unable to hide his dislike. If the man wasn’t so damn good at his job.

“Then we will know— _one way or the other_ —if she can pull it off.”It was fair consideration, Jaime couldn’t ask for more. “If she gets the job, we’ll need to design with her frame in mind.” He pictured the sketches with tiny triangles of material Tyrion had shared over dinner. “…nothing too provocative.”

“Gods, you _are_ smitten!” His brother laughed, placing a small hand on Jaime’s knee. “I’ll protect your lady love’s virtue. I understand…” Lowering his voice in mock seriousness. “…her nipples are for your eyes only.”

“Tyrrrrioooonn…” Jaime growled with frustration and anger, his patience breaking. “Not a word.”

“I assume you want me to take credit for this scheme?” He nodded, Tyrion’s smile grew warm. “Ever gallant. You really should reconsider…”

“No.”

“Your loss…and _hers_.”

They sat in silence several minutes more, watching stars appear over the swells, the uninvited image of Brienne in a bikini stealing his thoughts.

<><><><><><>

_Viper Strike Pro Event, Sandstone—Day 1._

“Hello, I’m…”

“Miss Tarth.” Same perky girl, same congenial smile, but with a snap to her attention today. “I have your registration filled out.” She handed her a packet of papers and lanyards. “Also… a _Viper Strike_ pro perks box…” she pulled a brightly colored package from under the table. 

Her father peeked over her shoulder. “Must be a gift from Oberyn…” Brienne shrugged, “…remind me to thank him later.” He grunted in agreement.

“….annnd…” The check in girl wasn’t finished, she reached behind her to another table and lifted a fancy shopping bag. “…your hotel registration and spa appointments.”

“My _what_?” She barked, shrinking from the girl’s resultant flinch. “What I mean is…” Brienne lowered her voice. “That hotel is lovely, but I really can’t afford to stay there.”

The girl met her eyes, shared a conspiratorial look, quieting her voice to match Brienne’s. “It’s already paid for, complements of _Surfer_ magazine.” She reached across the table, shyly patted Brienne’s hand. “Miss Tarth…you’re having an amazing tour. _Try_ to enjoy it.”

Brienne bit her lip, shook her head. _It’s too much._ “Thank you…” raising her brows in question.

“Pia…I’m Pia…” The girl’s grin broadened.

“Pia…please call me Brienne…and thank you. I’ll try.” She collected her packages, trying unsuccessfully to balance them in her arms while simultaneously dragging the dilapidated tent. Her father wrestled the cooler.

“How much of this is Lannister’s influence?” Her father had the uncanny ability to yank out her worries and boil them down into digestible pieces. Brienne grimaced.

“I’m not sure.He says he didn’t arrange the photo shoot…” Her father harrumphed, Brienne groaned. A minimalist language they had perfected together. “I still can’t believe I agreed to that shit show.”

“Be careful baby.” He nudged her with his shoulder.

_I’m trying…Gods I’m trying._

“I know it doesn’t _mean_ anything.” If she said the words enough, maybe her heart would hear them. Brienne survived in the space behind her walls, each brick a moment of judgement, a thoughtless remark that landed too true.She couldn’t allow a man like Jaime Lannister inside, to play in her oddity until it bored him, leaving her rattled and exposed. “He likes to take in strays.”

“You’re no stray Brienne and…I don’t think Lannister sees it that way either.” He sighed. “That doesn’t mean I understand him.” As one they spotted Jaime’s lean form striding over the dunes in their direction. “Speak of the lion…” Brienne smothered a chuckle.

“I see you got _all_ the goodie bags.” He greeted them with a relaxed smile, perfect and polished. Brienne wondered again if he was real.Wrestling the tent strap from her grip, he leaned down to lift one end of the cooler with a polite “Hello Mr. Tarth.”

“Good morning Jaime, thanks for helping.” She saw the barely concealed amusement in her father’s eyes, the way Jaime perked with joy at her father’s use of his first name. _What in the Seven are the two of them playing at._

“Next time don’t struggle with the tent, I had one set up for you.”Approaching the beach she could see a pair of giant, golden pavilions fluttering in the ocean breeze. “You know Tyrion, he had several spares made, in case one breaks. And it was just sitting in storage, so I thought…”

Brienne stopped, captivated by the gaudy beauty of it.“That’s… _not_ subtle.” Her father broke down in loud guffaws, Jaime snorted. _Snorted?_

“I suppose it’s not.” Jaime cast a sideways glance at her father, a strange look passing between them as the cooler banged back and forth against their legs. 

<><><><><><>

_Viper Strike Pro Event, Sandstone—Day 3._

“I thought Dorne was supposed to be hot?”Brienne sat hunched on her board, lips blue and shivering.An unusual cold front had swept in overnight, she groaned her way through warm up.

“Well you better _get_ hot duck, ‘cause I’m smokin’ today.” Jaime danced around the tent behind her, shaking his hips in a move that was dorky and sexy at the same time.

_Gods preserve me from this man._

“Cut that shit out Jaime…before someone loses their breakfast.” Tyrion handed them each a coffee, took a seat next to Brienne. “I’ve arranged for Renly to meet us here this morning. I thought you might get to know him before the shoot tomorrow.”

“Do I have to do this Tyrion? You know _—you know—_ I don’t like to have my photo taken.” She pulled her knees tight to her chest, shaking a little more at the thought.

“The cover of _Surfer_ magazine is not something to scoff at Brienne.” He patted her on the head affectionately. “You’re going to do a great job…and you’ll love Renly.”

Behind her Jaime made a strange sound that started as a snort but ended a snarl. “Here…” He tossed his sweater, a worn fisherman’s knit, slack and a little frayed at the sleeves. “Don’t want you freezing before I can spank you and send you crying.” She nosed into the material, inhaling deeply as it crossed her face

“Hello.” A handsome man with dark shaggy hair and a breathtaking smile stuck his head in the tent. “Is this a good time?”

“Come in Renly…thank you for agreeing to meet Brienne here.” Tyrion stood and shook the man’s hand, nodded toward her.“She’s feeling a little intimidated by this whole situation.”

Renly crouched on the sand next to her, took her hand in his. “Oh no… _no_ Brienne. You’re the star here, my job is to make you feel comfortable…to show the best of you to the world.” She snorted, and to her amazement Renly didn’t laugh. “Come on...you’re _fascinating_ …a challenge. I’m ecstatic to photograph you.”

“If you say so.” She found herself staring, captivated by his kind eyes.

“Have you ever dune surfed Brienne?” Frowning, she shook her head. “I’ll provide a board and several outfits to choose from. You’ll need eye protection…and sunblock… _lots_ of sunblock.” He grinned, easing her nerves. “I’ll pick you up at four, we’re due on set by sunrise. Try to get some beauty rest, keep the mani-pedi-facial appointment the magazine paid for…and _don’t worry._ It’s gonna be fun.”

“Hey duck…time to go.” Brienne and Jaime were closely ranked now and surfed in the same group, he was already pacing. Once standing the cold off the sea crept in, she pulled the collar up so that only her eyes peaked over.

“Hey Brienne…” She turned toward her name, clutching Jaime’s sweater, tall and still as the sun set the waves aflame behind her.The camera clicked in rapid succession, she barely had time to register what was happening. Renly stared at the display, looked up with a smile. “You’re a natural.”

Jaime growled from the tent flap. “ _Duuuuuuck…_ ” Brienne shuffled down the beach after him. 

<><><><><><>

He was at home reviewing new board designs for next season when his phone rang.“Renly…how can I help you?” The man had been kind to Brienne, Jaime tried valiantly to keep the distain from his voice.

“I’m sending over the photos from the Dorne shoot.They’re _good_ Jaime.” His email pinged, he opened it to dozens of images:Brienne in a dark red wetsuit, crouched on a board at the precipice of a monstrous wave of sand as the sun crested over her shoulder. She looked majestic— _mighty_ —the crimson of the desert setting her pale skin aglow.In the next she sailed down the slope, a wake of sand billowing behind her.He clicked on a third picture of Brienne with her wetsuit rolled down to her waist, a yellow sports bra showing. She had her arms bent overhead, clutching a surfboard, face and hair coated in grit and her lips parted in an elated grin. Jaime was fascinated by the muscles of her chest and shoulders, how they popped under the weight of the board.He tracked the freckles under her chin.

“Renly, you’ve done a magnificent job.Brienne looks…” His voice trailed off, at a loss for words.

“She’s an amazing woman. I think she’s a perfect fit for _Legacy Lines_.” Renly sounded _so_ sincere, Jaime imagined slamming the phone on the desk.

“Tyrion agrees…” His brother had viewed the photos and decided on the spot to sign her. “He’s penning the contract as we speak. Of course we will want you to shoot the advertising campaign.” Jaime barely tolerated the man, but his talent was unquestioned. And if he made Brienne feel comfortable…

“Jaime, the last one…it’s _yours_.” Renly sounded cautious, not sure how his words would be received. “I won’t publish it.”

Hesitantly he clicked on the final file, opening the photo of Brienne in his sweater.Her clear blue eyes a match to the brightening sky behind her, sun bleached hair sticking off in every direction. Jaime lingered on her graceful fingers, how they tangled together and twisted in the collar.His gut clenched with a surge of possessiveness he could not beat down.All the random parts of Brienne that caught his eye on display, every thing that he had first…

“Renly… _it’s_ …” Jaime sighed, sure the other man knew exactly how the image affected him.“Can you print it for me?”

“Of course.” His voice was soft, Jaime flushed. “This business can be ruthless, especially for a gentle soul like Brienne. I’ll look out for her…you have my word.”

Jaime wondered how this staggeringly strong woman, with her standoffish and surly personality, had wooed the men around her into guarding her innocence and fussing over her fragile self worth. _Even worse,_ he was reconsidering his stance on Renly Baratheon, shocking him with a sincere “ _Thank you.”_ Jaime then spent far too long staring at Brienne’s outrageously blue eyes.

<><><><><><>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Madelyn for being my sounding board and editing. Thank you to Jamie and Ro for reading and giving such great feedback. Thanks Meriwyn for reading and being such a great supporter. 
> 
> Please leave comments, they make my day.


	3. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He surfed like a god on his last run of the season, the sea an eager supplicant as he slipped carelessly over the lip, welcomed into its wet embrace. Jaime sparked across the surface, launching into the air and grabbing the nose, high and weightless. Time slowed as his feet lifted off the board and he hung for breathless moments, the board seeming to move with its own power as he struggled to pull it back into his waiting arms. 
> 
> His feet scrabbled then held, touching down with otherworldly grace, then sinking once more into the chute. He could stop now, the tour was his already. But the waves called, urging him on, claiming one more twirl around the floor before the lights went out.
> 
> He rose to the crest, bouncing and thrashing, riding the last sluice of power from the tumble as he shot forward, once more sailing above the waves. It felt like a goodbye kiss, a last caress, as he twisted above the crashing face. Jaime longed to reach down, trail his fingers through the white froth, thank it for delivering him here. 

<><><><><><>

_Legacy Lines Elite Event—Kings Landing. Day 3._

There were days when surfing was like breathing. The same resonation in his chest, the board an extension of his limbs—long and strong and flush with the water.The tap and roll of the waves beneath him certain as the thumping of his heart. Power and life flowing through and around him. In those moments it was all so clear—nothing to fear, nothing to think—just the movement of his body in time to the sound of his soul. Thrum and crash in relentless, pacifying repetition.

He surfed like a god on his last run of the season, the sea an eager supplicant as he slipped carelessly over the lip, welcomed into its wet embrace. Jaime sparked across the surface, launching into the air and grabbing the nose, high and weightless. Time slowed as his feet lifted off the board and he hung for breathless moments, the board seeming to move with its own power as he struggled to pull it back into his waiting arms.

His feet scrabbled then held, touching down with otherworldly grace, then sinking once more into the chute.He could stop now, the tour was his already. But the waves called, urging him on, claiming one more twirl around the floor before the lights went out.

He rose to the crest, bouncing and thrashing, riding the last sluice of power from the tumble as he shot forward, once more sailing above the waves.It felt like a goodbye kiss, a last caress, as he twisted above the crashing face. Jaime longed to reach down, trail his fingers through the white froth, thank it for delivering him here.

With a splutter he landed, skipping out of the curl as it collapsed at his back. Momentum failing, he stalled in the shallows and tripped off the board. Jaime rose from the surf in a frantic surge, somehow both sated and electrified, his bones shook as he sought her gaze.

Brienne stood ankle deep, her feet buried in the soft sand, long fingers curling against parted lips. Jaime looked for some touch of jealousy or discontent, but found none. Open joy, unbridled pride in what he had accomplished, awe at the beauty of his ride—all reflected in the endless blue surge of her eyes.She loped through the water toward him, kicking through the break.

“Jaime…dammit Lannister…that was…”Brienne threw her arms around his shoulders, hiccuped to a halt as her brain caught up with her actions, running her nails up the back of his head before releasing him. Jaime pressed into the brief touch, sad with the loss of it. “So good.So, so good.”

“Thank you Brienne.” She was unguarded, standing tall and fierce in the sunlight. A rare moment without her usual forced indifference or rigid self-awareness. Jaime unfurled in her shine, longed to keep her with him.“Don’t sell yourself short duck, your ride was pretty amazing.”

Brienne had finished minutes before Jaime, running fast and tight, hitting every trick. The alley oop she pulled off was just as high, just as breathtaking as the one she’d stuck at his beach, alone together in the morning glow. 

Pink flared in circles high on her cheeks, settling in her jaw as Brienne looked at her feet. “I suppose…yeah, it was good.” Jaime chuckled at her reticence, any other surfer would be jumping and spitting self-praise after what she had done. _Not my duck.Solid, stoic, soft-hearted duck._

“Fourth place…after starting thirty-fourth. Almost a podium.”He reached down out of habit, carried a board with each arm heading to shore. “You could take it next year.” She huffed behind him, made a half-hearted grab at her board before relenting as he tightened his grip.

“Aren’t you going to be here?” Her voice drifted higher. _Worry?_

He grinned, a low “ _umm-hmm”_ rising from his throat. Turning, he saw the pink circles deepen.

“At least there will be competition.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at her own joke. It was the cockiest thing he had ever heard her say, an outlandish statement as far as she was concerned. Jaime erupted in a barking “ _Ha_ ” of a laugh. She was more right that she knew.If Brienne kept improving at her current pace, they were all in trouble next season. 

They stowed their boards and sat side by side in his tent, quietly waiting for the official announcement. When the judges called her name there were a few cheers, most of the competition sulky and silent. Jaime shot up, whooping and whistling with such enthusiasm that he feared Brienne might combust. Tyrion and Selwyn added their own shouts of encouragement, she was hunched and brooding as she plopped back down beside him.

Jaime watched her face relax as she looked at her winnings check, tracing the ink with a shockingly delicate fingertip, lips quirked in silent satisfaction. _She’s proud._ He saw in in the straight way she held her neck, the pull of her shoulders. He felt it for her— _with_ her—not for the first time wishing she were older _(or he younger)_ and it would seem right to pull her close in congratulations. Instead he patted her on the head, letting his fingers lightly tangle in the strands.

“…five time champion, for the third consecutive year…first place goes to Jaime Lannister.” Brienne glanced sideways as his name was called, her full lips parting in a wide, satisfied grin, a glad little hum escaping with her breath. It skittered across his skin, making the hairs stand on end. The crowd was polite as he took his place on the center podium, Brienne’s enthusiastic clap ringing above the others.

They stood together as the crowd dispersed, as the Lannister team started disassembling the pavilion and Tyrion headed off to the tour after-party.“Do you want to go?” Jaime may have placed first, but as far as he was concerned it was Brienne’s day. He would follow her lead.

“Not really. I’m just not…” She shuffled her feet, bit at her lip. “I want to hang out with you…i-if that’s okay.”

“I don’t know duck…what will people say?” He licked his lips seductively, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Same thing they said all tour I imagine.” The flush in her cheeks darkened, spread down her chest in ugly splotches. Eyes like blue embers. “Let them talk.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “That’s my girl…fuck the sheep.” She crinkled her nose, and they both started laughing. “That came out…wrong” Jaime fought against a wave of melancholy, his smile faltered. _I’ll miss her._ It was an odd thought, he was not the missing type. The urge to steal her away was overpowering, to grab hold of these last few moments of a magical tour and hold them tight so that no one else could see. “You trust me?”

She nodded, not a whiff of hesitancy. “Why?”

“Just wait for me at the curb, I’ll be right back.” He was jogging off, following the path his brother had taken. “Bring your wet suit.”

Anyone else would have balked at the suggestion, asked if they hadn’t spent enough time for one weekend with wrinkled fingers and stiff hair. _Not Brienne_ —the same saltwater flowed in her veins—a siren song they both heard. Her face brightened at the chance for one more run in the dwindling sunlight. _That’s my duck._

_< ><><><><><>_

Jaime pulled up with the largest surfboard Brienne had ever seen strapped to the rack. It completely covered the usually open roof,tires spreading beneath the weight. “Is that a whale on your Jeep or…?” She bent to grin at Jaime beneath it.

He guffawed in reply. “Just happy to see you of course.” Reaching up to tap the board resting inches above his head. “Tyrion had it on display in the _Legacy Lines_ tent…do you think he’s compensating for something?”She chuckled, sliding into the passenger seat, careful not to crack her head. “Where’s your dad?”

“Caught a cab back to the hotel…it’s been a long tour.” Brienne ran her fingers over the waxed surface. “It’s a tandem board?”

“…for elephants. Or a pair of very tall blondes.”His grin widened, Brienne groaned.

“Oh gods…are you expecting to surf with me on that thing? Jaime, don’t be absurd…”

“I have been assured by the manufacturer that it will hold us.” He patted her knee, turning onto a dirt road leading to a secluded beach a few miles away. “Come on…we’ll work on our lifts.First pair to place one-two on the tour _and_ take the tandem championship in the same year. Don’t crush my dream.”

“Your _dream_ requires me to be five-foot-zero inches and weigh one-ten. There’s no way you’re getting me over your head.” She smacked his hand off her knee.

“Don’t you think I’m strong enough?” His eyes were sparkling with mirth now, so green it made her head spin to look at them. The gold in their depths like staring into the sun.

“No.” She huffed the reply, tired of his playful teasing. “I don’t expect you to try…”

“Oh it’s _on_ …challenge accepted. You are going up duck.”She shook her head violently, Jaime only laughed.“Yes, _yes_ …I don’t need my back for several weeks…”

“ _Jaaaimeee…_ ” She stretched his name out in a plea. “If I hurt you…” The thought of it was mortifying, this beautiful man laid flat under her weight.

Something shifted in his face as she lingered on his name, dust swirling as he slowed the vehicle to a halt. Jaime took her hand, raised the knuckles to his lips, his presence beside her a pressure that made her chest ache until she forgot to breathe. “You could never hurt me Brienne.” The smile was exquisitely kind, lips parting ever so slightly, wet breath against her skin. “This should be fun…trust me. We’ll have fun…”

There was no mocking in his voice, and she found herself wanting it to be true. It _could_ be fun. “Okay…it’s your funeral.”

He barked a little laugh, pressed another quick kiss to her hand before releasing it. “That’s the spirit.”

They pulled up on the beach, as close as possible to the surf. Brienne helped Jaime lift the board off—even _his_ chivalry had a weight limit—together they dragged it to the water.She put her hands on her hips in question.

“Jump on.” He indicated the front of the board, Brienne kneeled on the massive nose with room to spare on either side of her legs. He crawled on behind, and she was suddenly very aware of her positioning in Jaime’s line of sight, the heat beneath her wet suit stifling.

They paddled together for several minutes in blessed silence, until Jaime was unable to contain his thoughts any longer. “What a beautiful day for a tandem ride.The sun on my shoulders, wind through my hair…moon in my face.”

Brienne growled, kicking wildly as he ducked and snorted. Jaime caught her foot, yanked her off balance. Landing hard on her stomach, the air exited her lungs in a loud grunt. “Why do I put up with you?” She moaned into the board.

Unannounced Jaime crawled up her back, the movement so fluid and gentle Brienne barely had time to squeak before his head was nuzzling her shoulder. Stubble grazed her skin, sent shivers trickling across her back, the touch unexpected and terrifying.She froze beneath him as Jaime molded to her _—yielding, comforting—_ his arms and legs a match to her own, inch for inch.The solid heft of him bore her into the board, set her nerves buzzing with almost painful intensity. Brienne stifled a whimper against her arm, heat collecting low in her belly. “You’re going to miss me.” He mouthed against her neck, feathery hairs at her nape bending with each word, she lifted her head for more.

“I _am_.” Brienne sighed her reply, rewarded by his satisfied hum.

“Promise not to change.” His voice was louder, more urgent against the shell of her ear. “That when we return you’ll still be _my duck_. _Please_ Brienne…promise.” Need flowed from his skin, wet and flush with hers.

She nodded, bouncing his head with the movement of her shoulder. “I promise…I’ll _always_ be your duck.” Jaime puffed his relief, laid still a few minutes more, basking in the sun with arms draped around her waist. His long slow breaths filled her lungs as they rose and fell together.

Just as quickly it was over, Jaime bouncing to his feet, testing the balance of the board. “Okay…let’s do this.” He held out both hands as she stood, just righting her feet before he swept her into his arms, yelling with success and cradling her to his chest.Brienne squealed in protest. “We’re up…we’re up…”She felt his legs start to buckle, his center of gravity tumbling off line just before they fell backward off the board.

He blamed their failure on lack of momentum, so they paddled to the break point and drifted.Brienne convinced him to switch positions as she was heavier by a few pounds (Jaime relented the rear spot with the condition that she be willing to jump on his back and ride to shore). So they found themselves gliding in on a small wave and a giant surfboard, Brienne’s massive thighs tight around his waist, arms extended in victory as Jaime hooted at the top of his lungs.

As they reached the shallows, Jaime waved down a teen who had been filming the whole scene. “Hey…hey you.” He splashed after him through the surf as Brienne wrangled the board.

“It’s a free country man…” The kid started walking away quickly. “…that was seriously funny shit, you can’t keep me from posting it.”

“I don’t care _what_ you do with it.” Jaime was sure he would be Tik Tok infamous in hours, thank the gods it was filmed at a distance and anyone who didn’t know them would be hard pressed to identify their faces. “I just want a copy. Will you send it to me?”

He hesitated, looked back and forth between Jaime and Brienne before nodding and breaking into a broad grin.“Your girlfriend is ripped…” He glanced back to Brienne. “…and huge. Is she a weightlifter?” Jaime chucked and Brienne scowled, forcing him to wink at her. Her scowl deepened.

“Something like that.” He gave the kid his number, waited for the chime indicating a message had come through, then clapped him on the shoulder. “You want a free T-shirt?” They wandered to his Jeep, Jaime handed him a tour shirt and beach towel before shaking hands and parting ways. Brienne waited cross legged on the board as he wandered back, lips parting with amusement. “Look at you duck…so graceful. We’re a sure bet to win.”He showed her the screen, a blurry video of her barely holding on as he bent forward with laughter playing in repeat.Brienne stared at the image.

She hated seeing herself in pictures, and videos were worse.All her flaws in moving, vivid display— _big crooked teeth, thick waist, muscle bound legs, wide lips_ —she could spend a day listing all her ugly parts.But this time all she could see was her smile, too big and blindingly bright, full of joy.Widening her view she noticed the way Jaime’s hands gripped her thighs, strong fingers denting the flesh with the force of his embrace, his face a mask of delight.Anyone who looked at this video would only notice their silly actions and how happy they looked together.

“We need to work on our form.” He lit up with her teasing, tucking the phone back in his pocket as he sat beside her on the board.

“When do you have the photo shoot?” Tyrion had overseen production of a surf wear line with her in mind, the samples Jaime showed her had a sporty, androgynous cut, but the colors and materials were decidedly feminine. Brienne liked the clothes, but dreaded the shoot.The only bright side was Renly’s involvement, he would make it bearable.

“Renly is coming to Tarth in two weeks, he thought I would be more comfortable there.” Jaime frowned at the mention of the other man’s name, but the furrow of his brow was less severe this time, as if aiming for distain but finding his heart wasn’t in it. “You’re traveling to Pentos?”

“Tyrion is hoping to expand our market, so I’m surfing in an exhibition. I’ll use the new boards, show off the new styles.” He narrowed his eyes, lunging and poking her in the ribs until she snickered and flinched. “Wanna come?”

“I need to spend time with Galladon and dad.” She saw his flash of disappointment, it mirrored the tight feeling in her chest.

“I never got to see him surf.” Jaime sighed, squeezed her knee. “How’d he finish?”Brienne knew the question he was actually asking, she dreaded answering.

“Third…it-it’s not enough.” Her brother would surf in the lower tour again next season. 

“Be there.” His voice low and solid. She nodded, felt the unshed tears gather. “He needs you now.” Jaime of all people understood Galladon’s disappointment, her guilt-ridden success.

“A-and when you get home…we’ll meet at your beach.” Brienne cringed at the high, questioning tone of her voice, the way it quavered.

“It’s only a few weeks duck…don’t cry.” She snorted and he nudged her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and tugging her tight. With slow intent Jaime pressed his lips to her hair, the tender brush making her scalp tingle.

“Why would I cry over an insufferable man like you?” Brienne tried to sound light, but the weariness of competing had caught her, and her heart was raw in all the places that Jaime usually soothed.

“I’m not worth your tears.” He tightened his grip, she felt each firm fingertip, shifted into the embrace.

“Don’t you dare tell me who to cry for Lannister.” Brienne huffed the words with as much indignation as she could muster with his arm warm and tight around her.

Jaime growled against her neck low and satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

**< ><><><><><>**

On his way home Jaime stopped at a drug store, printed two grainy copies of a captured image from the video.He smiled at the goofy look on his face, at how free and fierce Brienne looked above his shoulders with her arms thrown wide.Before bed he scribbled a message on the back. 

_“Don’t forget me.”_

_Signed…_

“Jaime Lannister, World Champion surfer ( 5 years total, 3 years running— _you need to catch up, but you can’t, because I’m too good_ ). God among men. Pain in your ass.”

He left it in an envelope on the kitchen counter. _I’ll mail it in the morning._

<><><><><><>

**Season 2**

_Kraken Pro Event, Ironman’s Bay. Day 1._

There was a different girl behind the registration desk— _perky_ —but with a distanced look on her face that made Brienne uncomfortable. Standing at the front of the line she missed Pia with her unforced smile and genuine well wishes.

“Hello miss…?” Looking non-plussed at the presence of a woman in the queue, someone must have warned her.

“Tarth…Brienne Tarth.” The girl finally noticed just how broad the shoulders in front of her were, how tall the mop of blond hair reached. Brienne quirked an eyebrow. “Do you need my I.D.?”

Perky girl nodded, swallowed, suddenly mute as she diligently checked Brienne’s name off the list before handing her two lanyards and a folder of papers. “H-have a good weekend.” The voice she settled on was unsure, nervously addressing the giant woman standing so close.

“Has Mr. Lannister checked in?” The girl stared at her lips as if she couldn’t understand the words, Brienne began to wonder if it was her. Smiling, she tried again. “ _Jaime_ …is Jaime here yet?”

Perky girl looked pale, swallowed a couple more times. _She might be sick._ “Miss Tarth…I don’t think that I— _that is_ —ummm…it’s _just_ …”

“Brienne.” A familiar voice called out, she spotted Pia waving and walking her way. “Brienne, it’s good to see you.” The woman patted her on the elbow before greeting her father with an enthusiastic “Hello Mr. Tarth.”

“Pia…I missed you at the desk.” They shared a smirk at perky girl’s expense, before Brienne asked. “Where’s Jaime?”Pia blanched, her mouth startled open.

“You _don’t,_ he… _oh._ I assumed…” Brienne emptied, a sinking feeling like a vein sliced open, blood seeping into the sand beneath her feet. She took gulping breaths, turned panicked eyes to her father who was grinding his teeth, gaze narrowed at the young woman before them. “Jaime isn’t competing this tour.”

_Not competing._

Brienne grabbed her stomach, pushed against the sour, cramping sensation that threatened to bend her double. Head spinning.

_Jaime’s not competing._

She had been hurt _(I was devastated—who am I kidding_ ) when Jaime never called. No post card from Pentos. No snarky comment about her _Legacy Lines_ collection shoot. No meeting at his beach.Nothing.But she had assumed…

_Assumed. Gods that word._

She hadn’t texted him, hadn’t called ( _oh gods he was alone_ ). _Of course I assumed he was happy to break loose from big, awkward, boring Brienne. That he didn’t miss me…_

Pia was still talking, something about a tent…and-and…lunch…Tyrion’s complements…all handled… _sorry to catch you off guard_ …representative…for _Legacy_ …I-I’m sure you’ll do a great job… Brienne’s ears buzzed.

“ _What the fuck is happening here Pia!_ ” Brienne dropped her gear and screamed the words.The world whiting out as everyone within ear shot (which was— _regrettably_ —most of the beach) skittered to a halt to stare.She clenched her hands at her sides, bent head to chest, tensing all her muscles to stop the shaking. “There is only _one_ reason Jaime Lannister would not compete.” The words thundered out of her throat, low and menacing. Anguished eyes locking on the other woman’s furtive stare. “Is he dead?”

Pia looked horrified, could only shake her head in denial.

“How bad ?” Her tongue stuck to her teeth, the words thick. Pia met her gaze with wide eyes. Brienne’s guts were boiling, breath pushing against her chest, afraid to part her lips or a desperate, wounded sound would fall out. 

“ _Bad._ ” Pia’s voice broke. _Only one syllable, she still broke._ Brienne tumbled open with a ragged sob before clamping a hand over her mouth. “The company muzzled the news. But he’s hurt… _really_ hurt.”The young woman was babbling now, her floodgates open. “Tyrion hasn’t been around.No one knows what happened— _not for sure_.” Placing a frustrated fist against her forehead, Pia staggered forward a step.Selwyn caught her arm.“They hired me to handle you… _can you believe that bullshit_?” Brienne heard the hysterics brewing below the surface, afraid that the girl might black out from the sudden decompression.

“It’s okay…you’re doing…I mean.” The work of standing was overwhelming, Brienne sat down abruptly in the middle of the crowded beach. Pia joined her. “ _What do I do now_?” The empty feeling hadn’t lifted, she wondered how much of her soul was left to puddle in the dunes.

Pia took her hand, tried to sound strong. “You surf.” Brienne grunted, her face was wet, she swatted at her eyes. “You surf Brienne.”

They sat together, the young woman squeezing her fingers and making “ _shhh_ ” sounds, long enough for the gawkers to move on.Long enough for the empty feeling to expand, fill her head with a heavy grayness that muted the sunlight.Brienne’s legs were leaden as she trailed Pia to the tent _Legacy Lines_ provided, listened in silence as she went over the schedule, the menu. 

_Nothing is real._

Before warm up Brienne pulled out her phone, typed one line: 

“I’m crying for you.”

<><><><><><>

_Kraken Pro Event, Ironman’s Bay. Day 3._

Brienne had a respectable showing. She surfed with mechanical precision, hitting every line. Her feet, and hips, and arms exactly where they should be at just the right time.Every run clean and fast, each launch soaring, her technique undeniably beautiful.And with each touch down she looked to the beach, the hole inside her growing. 

She couldn’t eat Tyrion’s food. Her father fixed her a plate on the first day, Pia the second.Both times she ended up retching into a trash can.Brienne drank his water, sat in his fucking _Legacy Lines_ pavilion, signed and smiled and tried to be a human being around the ever growing number of fans seeking her out (apparently that advertising campaign was working), but she would not eat his guilt meals.

Theon found her after the last ride of the competition, his relaxed presence comforting in its sameness.He stared at her face for long moments, taking in the shadows beneath her skin, the pallor that seemed to swallow even her freckles, before silently taking her hand in both of his.

“What have you heard?”She needed to know, and Pia had been left intentionally out of the loop.

Theon dropped his eyes, looked more nervous than she had ever seen him.“Nothing officially.” He was still holding her hand, squeezing it softly. “Unofficially…I heard that some surfer was attacked by a landlord off Pentos. He was air lifted out, there was a lot of blood in the water.” Brienne gagged, bile rising in her throat, Theon held her fingers more tightly.

_Landlord. Shark._ “oh gods…where…” Brienne closed her eyes against the thought. Her nights were saturated with the feel of Jaime, surrounding and pressing her down, his absence while awake a constant ache.Now nightmares took shape behind her eyelids, of teeth and screams and flesh being pulled away. Sickness washed over her in a drowning wave, Brienne managed a few steps before vomiting water, her empty stomach protesting with dry heaves.

Theon stroked her back as her stomach spasmed again and again. “I heard he lost his hand.” Touch memories flooded her— _strong fingers on her hips, her thighs, tangled in her hair._ “Brienne… _shit._ I’m so sorry, I know you two were…” _(what were we?)_ He sighed, absentmindedly rubbing circles over the knobs of her spine. “There’s more…”

“Go ahead.” Her voice raw and vacant, far away through the ringing in her head.

“He started using again.” _Surfing saved me. I’d be lost. oh Jaime…_ “First pain meds, then harder stuff.I heard it from a friend who…umm,well…I have connections…” Theon flushed, unable to meet her eyes. “…I think Tyrion’s busy trying to get him in rehab, but Jaime’s staying with Cersei so…”

“He never called.” She knew how pathetic it sounded, how small and useless. But the words fluttered free, demanding to be heard.

“Addicts _don’t_ call their friends. They call enablers, other users…Jaime’s embarrassed by his relapse.”He was leading her back to a chair, placing a bottle of water in her hand.“It doesn’t mean he loves you less. He loves you too much to risk fucking you up.”

“What can I do?” She pleaded with Theon, finding his brown eyes and wishing for green.

“Be there when Jaime calls.He _will_ call.”His voice was kind, certain. _People underestimate him._ She stored the knowledge away.

Exhaustion flooded her _—too much, too fast—_ she limply nodded in assent. He smoothed her surf-tangled hair, kissed her temple. “Don’t let his choices affect your performance. You’re stronger than that.” He left her sitting alone.

Brienne thumbed her phone, sent the message before she could change her mind.

“I’m waiting.”

_< ><><><><><>_

_Galladon can’t be dead. He’s_ not _-not…that.My brother is a strong swimmer, he’s loved the ocean since he was old enough to walk. It’s a mistake. It should be me, I’m the one who pushes. Too reckless, too fearless. Galladon is careful.Galladon is safe._

But the waves were not safe, wild power part of their appeal. It fired her courage, drove her to go harder, dare bigger. Her brother never felt the same hum in his blood, and now he was dead.One slip, one rock, and her world was crashing. _Again._

After Jaime’s disappearance she soldiered on, shoved her pain into a little box buried deep beneath decades of calluses, hardly noticeable from the outside. Rejection and loss were old playmates. She remembered the little girl who sat through her mother’s funeral in a pink dress, listened around the corner as relatives ate her father’s food and whispered how “unfortunate” the color was on her, how gangly and brutish and odd she’d looked sitting five feet from her mother’s corpse. _That girl_ could survive anything.

Her surfing was respectable with moments of brilliance.If her love for the sport was missing, no one on tour was the wiser. She occasionally asked Theon for information, usually answered with a sad shake of his head.One afternoon he sat beside her, took her hand once more and simply said “he’s bad.”

Her brother’s accident happened three months into the season—she pulled out the same day—almost relieved to end the charade. Consumed with planning a funeral and calling all of Galladon’s friends, Brienne was hoarse from recounting the loss, accepting their consolations, mourning and laughing.Trying to find the joy in remembering.

_I need him._

The hole Jaime’s absence left in her life had never been more noticeable, a jagged sore that never scabbed over.Her nights a confused jumble of images. Galladon sinking, blue and bloated to the bottom of the Narrow Sea, Jaime with his head against her neck, clear green eyes clouding as his blood filled the surf and poison flowed in his veins. Brienne dreamed herself adrift, far from shore with no brother, no hope.

The texts she sent Jaime months before remained unread.Still, the closer the funeral lurked, the more desperate she became. Brienne needed his strong arm around her shoulders, his kind, teasing eyes to pull her out of this misery—if only for one stolen moment at a time. Jaime would stand by her side and watch her brother’s body lowered in the ground, and she could survive it. If..if…

**_“You know the drill…leave a message after the tone.”_ **

“Jaime, it’s me…duck.

I know that you’re not well that…you’re…

_shit._

I suppose that’s an understatement.

what you went through. I don’t have words.

you’re messed up.lost.

You told me. _I know._

the things you’ve done, what you almost became…once.

Jaime that’s not you. not really. not now. not anymore.

… _let me help you._

please. I’m lost too…

call me. _please_ …just. If I ever meant anything to you…

call.”

**< ><><><><><>**

Two days passed with no answer. Brienne woke in the middle of the night, sweating, crying.Bleeding need.

**_“You know the drill…leave a message after the tone.”_ **

“ _Jaime_ …

…it’s bad. _I’m_ bad. I need…shit. _shit_.

I’m fucking _begging_. is that what you want— _begging_?

Don’t be a dick Lannister.

I never wanted your money, or your fucking tent or your photos…

it’s not about you, _not always_ , not this time.

I want you asshole _…my asshole._

 _Just you_ …okay?

I never forgot. I waited.

just come stand beside me and I can do this.

you cared, I mean—I _thought_ you cared…

maybe.

call…

please.”

**< ><><><><><>**

They were burying her brother today. Brienne fidgeted in a black dress, black flats, tucking stray hairs behind her ears. Her father was so quiet, a shadow in their house, blaming himself for teaching Galladon to surf. They hadn’t spoken in…thirty-six hours? Forty-eight? Brienne lost count. She stared at the phone, fingers shaking as she dialed his number. _One more time._

**_“You know the drill…leave a message after the tone.”_ **

“Don’t bother calling back 

… _don’t._

I needed you and…

_we made promises, and I meant mine…but…_

I was just another charity case, a way to ease your privileged conscience. 

_I know that now._

_…Jaime._

_y_ ou’ve been through all seven hells…real monsters with real teeth.

I can’t understand that…no one can.

but it’s time to take your head out of your ass Lannister.

for once.for you.

not for me.

what I think doesn’t matter.not anymore…

be kind to yourself

bye.

**< ><><><><><>**

_Fifty-four messages._

She managed the barrage of phone calls as long as humanly possible after Galladon died, unable to face another wrecked relative, the empty voice of one more haunted friend. _Everyone_ loved her brother, _everyone_ was hurting.Brienne longed for a dark hole to curl up in. _The phone will be there when I crawl out._

So she found herself in the miserable predicament of having fifty-four unheard messages, a brother newly planted next to their mother, and a head swollen with grief.

_Screw them all._

Let them heal any way they can, and she would do the same.Brienne squeezed the power button, chucked it in the bottom drawer of her bedside stand and walked away.Some day she would pull it out and the voices would be bearable—not today. New phone, new number, new life. It was sounding better and better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, let me have it. So sorry.


	4. Tyrion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The call came in the middle of the night, a frantic sounding surgeon insisting that the hand had been unsalvageable, shredded beyond repair. Jaime had lost too much blood, was in shock, had been transferred to intensive care after the amputation. He was sorry, it had been unavoidable. A hand for his life. It seemed a fair trade to Tyrion, as long as he still had his big brother, there was hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for heavy references to drug use.

**_“This is Brienne. Leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”_ **

“ _Bri_ …fuck.

Brienne. _Brie-nnnne._

oh gods…Br- _Bri_ …oh fuck…I just. _I just_ …

_Gods_.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

what is wrong with me duck…

what kind of monster does _that?_

I can’t. … _just_ … _I’m_ the fucking monster.

I broke us.

It’s _fucking broken_.

_broken…broken. broken._

and I never _felt_ anything…I never _wanted_ anything so…s _hit._

more. there was more to us

_so much_ and… Sorry.I’m _so_ sorry.

please…

don’t call me. I’m dirty— _poison_

I’ll poison you duck…and I couldn’t live with…

I miss…

fuck

goodbye Brienne….”

**< ><><><><><>**

The call came in the middle of the night, a frantic sounding surgeon insisting that the hand had been unsalvageable, shredded beyond repair.Jaime had lost too much blood, was in shock, had been transferred to intensive care after the amputation. He was sorry, it had been unavoidable.A hand for his life.It seemed a fair trade to Tyrion, as long as he still had his big brother, there was hope.

Jaime was surfing at Pentos when the shark attack happened, a small exhibition with minimal press coverage. Tyrion contacted the media, pleaded for no coverage in order to give Jaime the chance to recover in peace. He’d rushed to his brother’s side, spent a week fretting and planning. By the time Jaime arrived home, his apartment was staffed with a newly hired nurse and live-in housekeeper.

Initially, Jaime was in too much misery to say much at all, grunting and groaning with any movement.He ate when pressed, answered when spoken to, and spent the majority of the day sleeping.His brother had lived through a nightmare, if Jaime wanted to hide from the world with his eyes closed for a few weeks, Tyrion would not judge.

Jaime never spoke of the attack. Never mentioned the tour, or surfing… _or Brienne_. Tyrion assumed those topics were too raw to touch, his brother’s body and soul had been flayed open, he was not going to prod at the wounds. Later he would regret his choice, would wish he had dug more, insisted that Jaime talk to a counselor.

He would have forced him to call Brienne, no matter how devastating that conversation might have been.

The first sign of trouble was the collection of bottles in the recycle bin. Tyrion questioned the wisdom of mixing pain medication with booze, had been informed that unless he lost _“a hand, a profession and his whole fucking world”_ he was not allowed to comment.Tyrion, in his backward wisdom, had seen that as progress. _At least Jaime is talking._

He’d accompanied Jaime to his doctor’s appointments, watched as Jaime winced during the exams, complained of unbearable pain where his hand had once been (even though his brother was much more active with significantly less discomfort every time Tyrion forced him _not_ to drink his dinner).He ignored the signs, one after the other, wanting to believe his brother was back amongst the living.

A month later Jaime called him at midnight, insisting that he drive to a quick mart on the other side of town. _“They have the best hot dogs”_ he’d said, and Tyrion was desperate to prove that things weren’t broken, so he played along. His brother hadn’t even tried to hide the exchange, watching in disgusted horror as Jaime handed a stranger several bills in exchange for a zip lock bag of pills.

“What in seven hells are you playing at Jaime?” His voice was livid, fueled by betrayal and fear.

“Fucking surgeon cut me off, said I shouldn’t be in pain anymore.” He slammed his fist on the dash. “What does he know about my pain?”

“More than you.”Tyrion gripped the wheel, snarling at the road.

“What does that mean _brother_?” There was hatred in the word. He didn’t recognize the man sitting beside him. “Are you condemning _me_ …after the shit I lived through?” Jaime shook with fury, and perhaps something else.Tyrion had never noticed the tremor before. _Why didn’t I notice._ “I watched as my hand was ripped apart, chewed up. Can you imagine how that felt…how _scared_ I was?” His face flushed, his breathing rapid, so close to falling apart.

“ _NO!_ ” Tyrion screamed the answer, trying to break through Jaime’s wall. “No…I _can’t_ comprehend what you went through…and you won’t tell me. I have no idea how you survived it, how you’re _still_ surviving it, but Jaime…” He pointed at the bag of pills in his brother’s lap. “…that’s _not_ the way.”

“I-I just need a few more days…to wean off. I’m in control of it.” Jaime looked so sincere, said all the things Tyrion needed to hear. He’d see a therapist, quit drinking, talk more.

Two weeks later he noticed the sudden drop in the company checking account. Tyrion tried calling Jaime, was once again forwarded straight to voice mail. He checked with his brother’s doctors, was told in a very discrete way that Mr. Lannister was no longer welcome at their practice— _practices_ actually—one too many threatening phone calls had burned all those bridges. 

Tyrion froze Jaime’s finances. It was the hardest decision he had ever made, justified as protecting his brother from himself. Jaime contacted him the same day, called his brother a “jealous, self-righteous cunt” before beating the phone against a hard surface and hanging up.Two days later Jaime called again, this time begging. “I’m dying Tyrion…everything hurts. I’m so- _so_ sick—please.”

“Let me get you into rehab…I can make some calls, find you a spot today.” Tyrion held his breath, only exhaling after Jaime silently disconnected.

They lost contact for a few weeks after that, his brother’s phone seemed to be cut off, he was never home. Tyrion heard from his father that Jaime left his apartment and moved in with Cersei. That night Tyrion stood in the shower and cried. His sister hated him, would poison his brother until nothing of the man he loved remained.It felt like a funeral.

A few days later he heard about Galladon.In desperation he called Cersei’s house, managed to cut through Jaime’s substance-induced fog enough to tell him about Brienne. He begged him to call her, and his brother agreed.Tyrion had been hiding from Brienne for months, the guilt he felt for not reaching out to the girl at the beginning of this whole ordeal threatened to swallow him if he let it. At least Jaime would set it right. 

But he didn’t.

The next morning Tyrion’s phone rang with an unknown number. His first instinct was to block it, at the last minute deciding to answer.

“Tyrion…Tyrion it’s me.” Jaime’s voice was slurred, the now familiar sound of a fading high. “…gods I think… _shit_ Tyrion _I need help_.” He was scared, desperate.

“Where are you?” He had been waiting for his brother to reach out since the accident.

“I don’t…I might have.” He groaned, the phone hit a table…five seconds of silence…ten. “I’ve _really_ messed up Tyrion. I don’t know how…if I _can_ live with this…” His pulse raced, he clenched the phone. His brother sounded inconsolable, unreachable.

“Jaime just tell me where you are.” Another long pause, he could hear frantic breaths.

“I don’t know…wait…” The phone shuffled, a new voice came on.

“Hello…who’s this?” It was a woman’s voice, Tyrion didn’t recognize her.

“This is Jaime’s brother, is he okay?” The woman snorted, he could hear the half-stoned disconnect in her voice.

“He’s been good… _really_ good…” Tyrion winced at the lurid implication. _Jaime isn’t like that._ With plenty of opportunity, his brother was almost a septon. “He’s a little fucked up…can’t remember my name…” She laughed, there was cursing in the background. “What did you call me baby… _Brynn?_ ”

“Brienne?” Tyrion groaned. Gods.

“That’s it… _Brienne_. He’s got it bad hasn’t he? Called her to apologize and everything.”She was still laughing, Tyrion felt ill. “With that ass he can use whatever name he wants…”

“Where are you?” He drove as quickly as he could, waited for Jaime in front of the apartment lobby.

Jaime stumbled into the light looking awful—thin and unshaven—with matted hair and deep blue hollows beneath his eyes.Opening the door with his left hand, he slid into the passenger seat without speaking. Rubbing his stump rhythmically, he was unable to meet his brother’s stare.

“Are you okay?” Tyrion leaned down, forcing Jaime to acknowledge him.

“Did you see her…” His eyes were feral, haunted. “…was she crying?"

“See who Jaime?” Tyrion lowered his voice, tried to avoid spooking him further.

“Brienne.” His brother bent forward, cradled his head between hand and stump, rocking. “I think…I-I might have slept with Brienne…and now I can’t remember wh-what I…what we…” Jaime whined, a horrible keening sound that Tyrion had never heard before. “…I ruined her.”

“Jaime…” He grabbed his stump, demanding attention.“Trust me…that wasn’t Brienne.”His brother blinked, his usually sharp eyes murky. “That woman was nothing like Brienne Tarth.”

“You’re sure?”Tyrion nodded, Jaime’s lungs emptied in a loud, whooshing sigh. “I thought…” He closed his eyes, let his head fall against the seat. They rode a while in silence, waiting for his high to fade.

“What happened?” Tyrion needed to know, wanted to help his brother reclaim his memory.

“I ran out of pain meds, and I was hurting— _bad_. An-and Cers said… she had a-a friend.”He stopped talking, sudden realization striking. “ _Fuck_ Tyrion, we shot up. Heroin…I think.” Jaime looked at his arms, just noticing the fresh marks. “I slept with her as payment.” Flat. Dead.

“Jaime…you were high out of your mind. She used you…” Tyrion knew his brother’s morality, and this was so far over his limits that it terrified them both.

“I called her Brienne.” Covering his face with his hand, Jaime gasped for breath, beating his stump on the dashboard. After a few whacks there was a bloody circle for each subsequent strike. Tyrion didn’t try to stop him. “I fucked that whore and called her _Brienne_.”

“I’m taking you to rehab.” He stated it as fact. Tried to keep the disgust out of his voice.

Jaime just nodded, his face frozen in a horrified grimace. He looked old and haggard, despicable. “I can never see her again…never call her…”

“Jaime…” He wanted to tell his brother that this was not the end of the world, that there was still hope and love and goodness out there. But he couldn’t.

“Never Tyrion…” His voice a ragged whisper.

Tyrion nodded, wondering how long it would take them both to get over Brienne Tarth. Probably forever.

**< ><><><><><>**

Six years.

Six _fucking_ years. Her memory hung over the room with the heavy press of a summer rain. Tyrion stared at the hauntingly blue eyes looking down from his brother’s wall.

_At least it’s not in the bedroom._

He grinned at the idea, prim Miss.Tarth standing watch over Jaime’s virtue, not that it was a hard task.As far as he knew, his brother had taken zero interest in sex since he whisked him off to rehab—the _first_ time. Of all the temptations Jaime surrendered to, Tyrion wished one of them had been Brienne Tarth. 

His first attempt at sobriety was short lived, sabotaged by his twin whispering in his ear. “ _We can fight our demons together, no one understands you better than me._ ” In the throes of withdrawal Jaime saw Cersei alone and dead.She floated in and out of the watery shadows that circled his sleep, wept at the foot of his bed.The guilt of leaving her too much, he fled in the middle of the night. A month later he showed up at Tyrion’s door with more marks on his skin and an emptiness in his eyes.It took two more attempts for the program to take root, Jaime had been clean just under four years.

When Tyrion brought his brother home after the accident, he hadn’t realized how the constant rumble would affect him—an incessant rub against the blisters of his agitated mind. Eventually Jaime surrendered his fears, how he’d wake with water crashing in his ears and points of teeth around fingers that no longer existed. That he was dulling the hurt in his head as much as his hand. After rehab, he never went back to his apartment overlooking the sea. 

Together they found the little house on the inland side of King’s Landing, shady with trees and skirted by jogging trails.Far, far away from the pounding surf and the lure of a quick fix.Jaime figured out a new life, one that included a prosthetic hand with shaky movement and plastic digits (not perfect, but still…). He focused on the business end of _Legacy Lines,_ calling an amicable truce with Renly as they plotted several successful advertising campaigns. Working mostly out of his house he was efficient and innovative while managing to avoid the tour altogether.

Jaime had not set foot on sand since they hauled him out of the surf, his life spattering behind in a red stream.More than just his hand had been ripped away, the death of surfing was a wound his brother could never best. It was a silent fester, withering him away, wearing him down. 

As he sat in Jaime’s favorite easy chair, in the sunniest corner of his house, Tyrion realized that another loss troubled him even more. Brienne was there. He imagined his brother settling in to read _,_ to work _,_ her face peering over his shoulder from beside a shelf full of old surfing trophies. The image struck him as both comforting and sad.

_All the things he loved and lost._

Jaime approached from the kitchen, carrying two glasses of tonic and lime. Tyrion made a face. “This is some form of torture…”

“It’s refreshing.” He sat on the ottoman at Tyrion’s feet, low enough to the floor that his knees almost touched his chest. “I seem to have developed a taste for bland.” Jaime huffed, an embarrassed sound.

“Do you miss it?” Tyrion nodded at the awards, waited for Jaime to trace the path of his stare before deliberately shifting to the photo of Brienne. He narrowed his eyes in challenge. “It seems to me that you do— _very much_.”

“I miss _lots_ of things…some days my longing is bottomless.” He gazed at the photo with open warmth, unabashed in his little brother’s scrutiny. “If I stare into that pit it will swallow the rest of me.” Jaime turned back to Tyrion, shadows like seawater pooling beneath his eyes. “I must be content with what I have Tyrion.”

“It’s not fair…you deserve more.” Tyrion reached out, grasping his brother’s prosthetic fingers. Jaime fought to hold still, twitching with unrest before yanking away with a dejected whimper. _Still not ready._

“I have _you_ …the job. It’s enough.” He looked at his hands, swirling the lime in circles with his plastic grip.

“What about _her_?” The long years of avoidance fell on Tyrion, he buckled beneath the weight.Jaime felt it too, slumped lower.

“She’s probably happy.” He looked up, eyes deep and sad. “I _have_ to believe she’s happy Tyrion…” Jaime reached out with his good hand, gripped his knee. So close to the edge.

“She is…I’m sure she is.” Tyrion covered the hand with his own, pressing tight, holding him in place.

**< ><><><><><>**

_“Hey Tyrion this is Theon.”_

The text appeared out of nowhere.Theon quit the tour three years ago after injuring his knee, Tyrion hadn’t heard from him since.

_“It’s been too long. How are you?”_ Tyrion couldn’t imagine what made him reach out after all this time, he and Theon had never been close. Not like Jaime…

“ _I’m good._ ”There was a long pause before another message came through. “ _sending you something, ok?_ ”

Tyrion’s phone chimed, a link labeled _Oathkeeper Outreach_ popping up on the screen.

“ _what’s this?_ ” Tyrion texted before opening to pictures of surfers…a mission statement to help addicts and injured veterans…anaddress on _Tarth…_

_“she’s alone”_

_Fuck._

Tyrion’s heart thrummed, frantically scrolling down the page until he found a list of surf instructors, the first one… _oh fuck._

_“she deserves better but she wants him.”_ He could hear Theon’s disgust through the screen.

“ _why are you telling me this?_ ” Tyrion held his breath, trying to control the hope threatening to blossom in his chest.

_“she’s important to me.”_ Another break, Tyrion thought he was finished, when a final message lit the screen.

_“I want her to feel love again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have hit bottom. Please let me know what you think.


	5. Dumpster Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How much do you trust me?” His brother was close, the words hesitant against Jaime’s ear.
> 
> “With everything I am.” The answer was instant, delivered through gritted teeth. “You saved me.” Air refused to enter Jaime’s chest, his ribs a vice around his heart.
> 
> Tyrion patted his hand. “I may have screwed up Jaime. This may be too much too soon…” Opening his eyes, he met his brother’s troubled stare. “…but hiding isn’t living.”

<><><><><><>

Monday morning huddle had become a _thing_ at _Oathkeeper Outreach._ Brienne established the meeting as a way for the team to review new clients’ files, discuss their cases and determine a plan of care.Her company was built on nothing more than a few well used boards, a business degree, and her driving need to help others while keeping her feet in the sand. She quickly determined that the most valuable asset of her fledgling business was the total investment of her employees. The better they understood their customers—what disasters they had survived, the physical and emotional pain they were dealing with every day—the greater their commitment to the team’s goals. As a result she had a tight group that supported each other and usually agreed on how to proceed.

Brienne introduced pancakes to the meeting on Theon’s birthday,and somehow that morphed into gathering around her kitchen table at the start of each week with a stack of cakes and a full coffee pot.She really didn’t mind, cooking was mindless stress relief, and her coworkers looked at her with adoration every time she refilled their plates. Brienne thought they must fast all weekend to save space.

Sitting down with a mug she passed out the stack of folders. “Okay Pod…who’s on the agenda?” Podrick was the newest addition to her team, nineteen and spending the summer on Tarth with his family.Brienne hired him to boost the kid’s resume, Pod had applied to the physical therapy program at Storm’s End and this job looked good on paper.To her delight she found that he made a wonderful receptionist/housekeeper, and was intuitive when it came to understanding what their clients needed.

“O-okay, we have a Mr. Harry Longsword.” Theon and Davos snickered, Brienne bit her lip. “W-what…?” The boy looked troubled.

“Pod…that _can’t_ be a real name.” Theon was outright laughing as he yanked the folder away.“Wonder if it’s truth in advertising?” He flipped open the file, Brienne thought he might be looking for a photo. “Hey Tarth, if I’m ever your client call me ‘Abel Wideshaft’.” He looked up, quirking an eyebrow. “Sound right?”

Rolling her eyes, she huffed with irritation. “As if _I_ would know… _gods_ Theon.” The group erupted in laughter, Brienne blushed from collar to earlobe, swatted at his unruly curls.

Theon had been a surprise in so- _so_ many ways. He showed up at her door two years ago after suffering a complete ACL/MCL tear. They repaired it well enough for him to walk, even surf casually, but he would never compete again. With unglazed eyes he swore he was clean, hadn’t smoked in almost a year, and needed a job.Brienne hadn’t understood then that he sought her out with purpose, that her near decimation and subsequent resurrection resonated with his broken spirit, and he wanted to learn the girl turned woman in the fire of disappointment and despair. _That_ revelation would come later.

“In all seriousness…I think it’s an alias.” Theon spread out the file’s contents, Brienne and Davos leaned over his shoulders to read.There were numerous medical reports with the identifying information obviously altered or simply blacked out. Summaries from therapists, records from three stints in rehab, all changed to include the made up name.

“Whoever this poor bastard is, he’s been through all seven hells.” Davos spoke up, holding a counsellor’s note. “His PTSD symptoms are through the roof…self isolation, flashbacks, nightmares. It’s a miracle he’s sober.”

The older man squinted at the papers, resorting to his readers as he diligently absorbed each line.Another happy accident, Davos had watched a TV interview she gave shortly after founding _Oathkeeper_ and sought her out.He was a veteran himself, with half a left hand and a suffocating number of troubling memories. After being honorably discharged he used the army’s money to get his degree in psychology and then a master’s in psychotherapy.He had been using exercise as adjuvant treatment for PTSD and addiction for years—hiking, distance running, swimming—anything with repetition and challenge, working minds and bodies at the same time. He thought it helped focus, and did wonders for insomnia.Davos had been quick to buy into surfing as a perfect outlet for the disabled vets he worked with, his acerbic observations and calm strength an anchor for her staff.

Brienne was reading a medical report. “Accidental amputation…the grizzly details are omitted…maybe a boating injury? He has issues with water.” She skimmed the rest of the page, quoting it aloud. “‘… _phantom pain that is severe and unrelenting.’ …_ that sounds miserable.” She shook her head. “How did this guy end up here Pod?”

The young man frowned as he navigated financial records on the company laptop.“Looks like he paid out of pocket in advance, routed the money through a second party bank. An application for treatment and a medical record release was requested via emailand…that’s it.” He shrugged and closed the file. “He’s a mystery man.”

“Well— _on paper_ —Harry seems sufficiently fucked up.” Theon was shaking his head, all of them recognizing a tough case. “You’ll be his new best friend.” He nodded in Davos’ direction. “ _Lots_ of couch time.”

Brienne tried to focus, her mind fuzzy, something about the file niggled at her. Giving her head a quick shake, she tried to clear it. “Do we think he will need physical therapy too? I could call Sam…give him a head’s up?”

Davos nodded. “If he’s still hurting Sam might be able to lessen the pain, it’s probably from adhesions…scar tissue that needs manual manipulation.” He balled his hand, squeezing the missing digits before meeting her eyes with a mischievous look. “When does Mr. Longsword come?”

Pod and Theon both exploded in sniggers, Brienne shushed them like a school marm, held the younger boy’s eyes in an icy stare. “Mr. Longsword _arrives_ this afternoon. Pod…please make sure his cabin is ready and keep an eye out. We can meet in my office.”

Brienne used the money she saved from her tour winnings and her brief career with _Legacy Lines_ as the downpayment on a large oceanfront cottage.Her father chipped in (along with a small business loan) allowing her to buy the adjoining lot. The first floor housed _Oathkeeper Outreach,_ with a communal kitchen and a sitting room with sun-bleached overstuffed furniture beneath windows overlooking the sea. Her office faced the water, dominated by a dark wood desk that made her feel grown up and grounded, the walls dotted with photos of her surfing career. There were bright, wide porches all around, swings and wind chimes and hanging plants scattered along the length.She lived in the second story apartment, separate from the business with its own entrance. 

The rest of the compound consisted of four modest cottages, each with its own bath and an exit onto the beach.A garage served as a storage area, filled with beat up boards and a repair bench where her father would sit and work on cool evenings.

She was proud of the snug little world she had created, proud of the good they did there. With a satisfied smile she adjourned the meeting, carried the dirty dishes to the sink as Pod and Davos showed themselves out.

Theon crept up behind her, grabbing her around her waist. Brienne grunted, bumped him with her elbow. “You sure you don’t want to meet _‘Abel’_? I could introduce you…”

She snorted, gave a tiny huffing laugh that rumbled a little too deep. “Save that shit for the swooning ladies who gawk at your therapy sessions.” 

Theon leaned forward, pressed his cheek to her shoulder blade. “I could do better.” He whispered the now familiar goodbye against her shirt.

Turning toward his head, her breath parted his unruly waves. “No…you _can’t._ ” They stood together a moment, Brienne felt safe in his hold, comfortable.

“Meet you on the beach.” Theon released her with a squeeze, opened the screen door before pausing. “After you meet Mr. Longsword.” He waggled his eyebrows before disappearing down the stairs.

Brienne turned back to the sink, trying to quiet the discontent that settled over her at the name. _It’s just another client._

<><><><><><>

“Turn here.” Tyrion indicated a long dirt lane marked by a blue mailbox heading off in the direction of the beach. 

“Tell me again how you picked a tiny bed and breakfast on Tarth?” Jaime looked up from the road, gave Tyrion a piercing stare.

Several months ago his brother suggested a vacation together, just the two of them.He initially resisted, but Tyrion had looked so weary, his deep set eyes more sunken than usual, his guilt would not let him refuse.The last six-plus years had been torture for his little brother, mostly of Jaime’s making.He owed him his life, whatever he asked was too little.

Jaime briefly reconsidered that stance as he saw the shoreline receding beneath the Lannister jet, crossing over miles of open water.When they circled the island for landing clearance, and he realized it was Tarth, his throat closed. Squeezing his eyes shut and gripping the armrests, he felt Tyrion’s little fingers circle his.

“How much do you trust me?” His brother was close, the words hesitant against Jaime’s ear.

“With everything I am.” The answer was instant, delivered through gritted teeth. “You saved me.” Air refused to enter Jaime’s chest, his ribs a vice around his heart.

Tyrion patted his hand. “I may have screwed up Jaime. This may be too much too soon…” Opening his eyes, he met his brother’s troubled stare. “…but hiding isn’t living.”

Jaime assumed— _hoped really_ —that Tyrion was referring to touring an island when he hadn’t been able to set foot on sand since the attack.Let alone _this_ sand, on _this_ island.

As they pulled their rental into a parking space beside a well kept cottage, Jaime’s spirits lifted. _Blue_ —the cottage, the sea behind it, the horizon beyond—as far as he could see. Every shade, from brightest sky to deepest sapphire, filled his vision. _Of course her island is blue._

A young man with eager eyes came rushing out the front door, a file in hand. “M-Mr. Longsword…?” He looked anxiously between them, eyes falling on Jaime’s prosthetic before extending his hand. “Welcome to _Oathkeeper Outreach_.”

Jaime jerked away from his touch _—another post-accident hangup he hadn’t bested—_ looked questioningly at Tyrion. “I think we’re at the wrong place.”Turning back to the kid. “Have you heard of the _Blue Night B &B_…?”

Tyrion stepped in front of him, extended his hand.“Hello I’m Tyrion Longsword…and this is my brother Harry.” He gave Jaime a silencing glance. “He’s just nervous, aren’t you brother?”

Jaime met his eyes, narrowed and pleading. With his back to the nervous young man Tyrion mouthed “ _trust me_ ”. Of course he would, he did.

“Y-yes sorry, that’s me…ummm, Harry?” Tyrion bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“O-okay…well…th-then…” The kid looked skittishly between them, motioned to the porch steps. “Right this way.” They followed him into the cottage, Jaime felt instantly lighter in the airy room, tried again to catch Tyrion’s avoiding eyes. Their guide disappeared through an adjoining door with a quick _“just a moment”_ thrown over his shoulder.

“What have you done?” Jaime growled under his breath, bending to squeeze Tyrion’s shoulder. His brother looked quietly frightened, eyes wider than usual, breathing just a little too fast. _Oh gods._ “Tyrion…what is…?”The door reopened, the young man smiled warmly and motioned them inside.

“Ms. Tarth, I have Mr. Longsword.” She was silhouetted against the window, long and lean, a cup of coffee cradled in one hand as she pressed her other fingers to the pane, watching the waves. A familiar look of longing on her wide face.

_Brienne_

Jaime’s feet quit working.He stumbled forward, grabbed the back of a chair as his vision went grey and liquid at the edges, ears vibrating with a screeching hum that peaked and fell with his frantic heartbeat.

_…oh gods…Brienne_

_She looks good._ Jaime’s palm was slick on the chair and he was trying desperately to press his lips tight and muffle shaky gasps, his chest so full that nothing else seemed to fit in the squeezing space around his heart. Tyrion had his hand pressed to the small of his back… _I am going to fucking kill him…_ either comforting or trying to hold him upright… _great time to notice my panic attacks, asshole…_ and it would be funny… _except—oh gods— it’s so_ not _funny…_ that the first coherent thought in the swirling shit-storm of his brain was _how damn GOOD she looks._

_Brienne would find it amusing._

That realization alone seemed to halt his spinning, an image of her snorting and rolling her eyes as he told her how wonderful the sight of her was—in her fitted black business pants and blue linen button down—with all the baby-like softness gone from her face.Even now, with his bad choices crashing down and the mother of all nervous breakdowns threatening to submerge him, he was mooning over her—how her hair was silver in the sunlight as it touched her shoulders _( longer now ),_ the way her full lips parted in thoughtless seduction revealing straighter than expected teeth _( he would ask someday )_. Brienne in front of the window was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and she wouldn’t believe him if he told her.

She turned, a welcoming smile frozen in place as her eyes locked with his. _And…gods…this feels like bleeding.The drip-drip-drip of his blood on sand._ She emptied in front of him—blue eyes turning cold, the pink circles of her cheeks paled to chalk—her smile evaporating.

“What is…why are you…?” She shook her head, as if her pain would fall loose.“Is this you?” Flinging open the chart on her desk, the pages fluttered between them.

Jaime opened his mouth, gaping, he gripped the chair with every ounce of his strength.

“Yes.” Tyrion spoke up from behind him, his hand still pressed to Jaime’s back.“Brienne, this was my idea.I thought…” His brother sighed, Jaime felt the comforting air against his shirt. “I really don’t know _what_ I was thinking. But this is not his fault.”

Jaime took a steadying breath, found his voice.“Brienne… _duck_ …”

“Don’t.” She cut him off, her heavy voice tight and clipped, unrecognizable. “You have no right.”

“I know…I’m…”

“You _don’t_ know!” She took a step forward, the desk between them like armor. “You don’t know _anything_ about me. That _name…_ ” The word shook, her hand trembled. “That name was a _gift_ , from a man long gone, for a girl who doesn’t exist… _not anymore_.”

Jaime felt the words like a blade, gripping his gut with the good hand he sunk into the chair facing her desk. It kept him from sliding to the floor. “I shouldn’t be here, this was a mistake.”

Brienne huffed, the sound full of bile. Jaime winced. “When has _that_ ever stopped you?” She slumped into her desk chair, put her head in her hands. “I was _almost_ able to forget.”

Venom churned in Jaime’s stomach, her rejection of his endearment still fresh. Irrational anger blossomed at the thought of her living without him. _How could she…_ when her memory filled his every breath? Bitterness bubbled off his tongue at the idea of her moving on when he had failed so miserably to do the same. “Why should you be so lucky?”

She raised her face from her hands, flushed with fury, blue eyes scorching across the polished wood. Jaime twisted his lip in a condescending sneer, met her burning gaze with equal fire. He could end it this way _—she would hate him—_ walk out and set her free. He could do that for her…

_I’m not that selfless._

Brienne ran a hand through her hair, distracting Jaime with the way the longer strands tangled around her fingers, how they parted in a slight curl.She sighed, exasperated, weary.“Did you come all this way to fight with me?” Her gaze cooled, flames smothered in the storm. “You could have just called.”

The anger in his belly dissolved, guilt that had been festering for yearsrotting its way to the surface.Jaime wanted to curl into a ball, hide under that fortress of a desk until Brienne tired of him and dragged him out.“I know…I _should_ have, a-after everything I just…” The words to make it right didn’t exist. _There is no fix._ Pounding agitation built in his brain, he gripped his knees to stop the tremble in his hands.

Tyrion felt Jaime’s control faltering,placed a small hand on his elbow just above where the artificial hand met skin. “Brother…we’ve forced ourselves on Brienne enough for one day, let’s give her space to think it through.” There was a plea in his voice, a way out.

Jaime tried to control his body _—gods he tried—_ the recoil from his brother’s touch instantaneous, a reflex he had no power to stop. He jerked out of Tyrion’s arm, rubbing frantically at the space where his fingers had grasped. “ _No!_ ” He bellowed his frustration at the floor, rocked forward until his forehead was almost touching the edge of the desk. _“I won’t leave again.”_

_Quiet._ Even the voices in his head faded to nothing.

Moments passed, measured in the _boom-crash_ beyond the window and the slide of shadows across the floor. Unable to tolerate the silence any longer he sought her face. Brienne was staring, head tipped to the side, wearing a look he once thought disagreeable, but with the perspective of years seemed more contemplative.The cherished little line Jaime recognized as consternation forming between her brows.

Calm like a cool breeze gusted outward from Brienne’s still center. The flame in her cheeks had settled, the set of her jaw softened. Her deep sea eyes lingered on his arm, measured the distance between he and Tyrion. He felt bare beneath her scrutiny.

“ _Jaime._ ” She breathed the word, it fluttered into the space between them, taking flight in his chest. “You’re hurting.” The pronouncement made without ceremony, bringing to mind all the other frank conversations they had shared before.

_“You’ve seen the fucking file !”_ He was naked in front of her— _flayed and raw_ —his torment scattered like leaves across the surface between them. “I’m a dumpster fire Brienne…” He placed both hands—real and plastic—on the smooth wood surface, leaned toward her. “Why would I choose to let you burn with me?”

The blue of her eyes was mesmerizing _—unrelenting—_ the promise of endless waves and sun kissed spray.Brienne reached across the desk, fingers trailing the polished surface inch by inch as she tested the water between them, finally cupping his prosthetic hand in both of hers. Jaime held rigid, waiting for the terror to set in, startled when it didn’t appear.

She ran long fingers, _those_ fingers, over metal and cable and plastic.Barely a touch, and yet his unfeeling hand _felt_ her, craved her caress.Looking to his face for permission she reached higher, gliding over his forearm, fingertips mapping each scar, every tooth mark, every rip. She brushed them one by one, feather light, drawing out the hurt. Jaime gasped, unmoving, the restless ache fleeing beneath her tender strokes.

“Some injuries can’t be seen.” Her voice was lower than he remembered, those damnable, _un-fucking believable_ eyes burrowing into him, slate and steel. “They’re deeper _—different—_ it doesn’t make them hurt less… _I know._ ” Brienne lowered her lashes, moisture gathering beneath them.She pressed her lips tight, held on. _So stubborn._

Jaime slid his good hand across the desk, linked his fingertips with hers, tugging a hand toward him. He held his breath _…waiting…_ she didn’t pull away. “Do you want me to stay?”

“ _Yes._ ” He couldn’t hear her answer _—so soft—_ reading the word as it formed on her lips.A single drop escaped her lashes, landing with a plop on his chart, the ink bled outward in a smoky circle. Brienne snuffled, squared her shoulders. _So strong._ “That is…I th-think that we can help you here…i-if you want that is…”

His prosthetic fingers twitched, clutched at her hand still wrapped around it. Brienne held on, squeezed them back, Jaime watched in fascination as plastic and flesh intertwined. “I’ll stay.”

<><><><><><>

The kid, he’d introduced himself as Podrick, showed them each to a cabin. Brienne had two openings and agreed to let Tyrion stay as long as he liked.His brother’s bag was still bouncing on the mattress when Jaime barged through the door. “What the fuck Tyrion? A little warning…”

Tyrion opened the door to the beach, walked out on the little porch and took a gulp of sea air.“If I’d told you, would you have come?”

“No!” Jaime kicked off his shoes and socks and sprawled on the bed, stared at the ceiling, ignoring the rumbling surf. “I told you… _never._ ”Images of that night were a pained blur, never straying far from the surface of his memory, the vow he’d made the only crystal clear point.

“And how’s that working out…?” Tyrion pulled an Adirondack chair close to the door, making sure he could still see Jaime’s face before scooting into it. “All better right?No more crying out for your lost love in the middle of the night?”His brother spent more than a few nights on his couch after he was discharged from rehab, afraid of what Jaime might do if left alone.

“Fuck you.”There was no hiding from his brother’s judgment, the truth between them too strong.

“Again…not likely.”Tyrion paused, hesitation when he spoke. “ _Did_ you fuck her?” Jaime shot up at that, neck red with outrage.

“I told you we never…”

“I know what you _said_ , but after that night…” That memory again, it never rested. “…most people cry out what they’ve known.”

“…or want.” Jaime fell back, arm falling across his face.“I never denied wanting Tyrion.”

“I wish you _had_ fucked her.” Tyrion sighed, Jaime whined in reply. In dreams he wished the same.

“Tyrion she was just…”

“ _A kid_?Spare me.” His brother turned to face him, his annoyance plain. “Brienne Tarth _was_ more woman, _is_ more woman _,_ than any other I’ve known. And she wanted you _,_ she still does.”

“You don’t know that… _I_ don’t know that. She was so young, naive…”

“What about today…in there…” Tyrion nodded toward the cottage. “Brienne still a kid…still naive?She looked pretty damn grown to me. I’m not fucking blind Jaime.” He turned back toward the sea, watched the waves roll in. “You let her touch you.”

The memory of her fingers on him was so strong, _so sexy,_ Jaime held his breath to steady the longing.Tyrion would know anyway, his response to Brienne had never been subtle. “You knew about this, about her?”

“Theon texted me.”Tyrion chuckled, shook his head. “He’s been working with Brienne for the last two years, they’re _close…_ ” His brother let the emphasis land on the last word, Jaime’s hackles rose.

The young man had respected Brienne— _liked_ her. Jaime could picture Theon’s kind smile broadening as she finished a good ride, his congratulatory hug. “ _How_ close?”

Tyrion laughed then, a bright loud sound that made it difficult not to smile in response. “Close enough that he wants her to be happy…” He slid off the chair, walked over to Jaime lying on the bed. “…and he thinks you’re the missing piece to that happiness.”

“She was furious with me Tyrion…there was pity in her stare.” He could still see her eyes, blue flame in the sunlight.

“That was _pain,_ not pity.” Jaime opened his mouth to object, his brother cutting him off. “ _Fuck_ …do you _ever_ see what’s right in front of you?”Tyrion hopped up on the mattress, patted his knee. “She’s built an entire business around her guilt over not helping you. ‘ _Oathkeeper?’_ Gods Jaime _,_ who do you think that oath is to?”

Jaime thought of Galladon, how she’d worshiped the big brother she lost. There were enough oaths to go around.“I can’t be the one to push it, she deserves more than an addict, a-a cripple.”

“She _deserves_ to not spend the rest of her life feeling rejected.”Tyrion’s voice was rising, frustration and anger finally bubbling to the surface.

“I didn’t…”

“You did!” He spit the words, little fists balling. “However honorable the reasons, you let her think she meant nothing…to _either_ of us. I was complicit once— _not again_.” Tyrion jumped up, headed toward the beach-front door, breathing deeply. “Brienne Tarth will _never_ be the one to reach out.She’ll suffer quietly, swallow her tears.”He turned back to his brother. “Her walls are too thick, you’re the only one she let inside. _You have the only key…_ ”

“I know.” Closing his eyes he saw her with arms wide, laughing over his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist. _His duck._

“Don’t screw it up again.” He nodded to the beach, pulling off his shoes. “Walk with me…?” Jaime shook his head, the grains of sand sticking to his feet from the grooved floorboards enough to make him sweat.

“Not yet.” Tyrion met Jaime’s pained frown, nodded.

“I get the feeling Theon hopes you will— _screw it up_ that is.”Jaime jolted upright, opened his mouth in question.Tyrion grinned. “If he loves her enough to text her ex-flame’s brother in the off chance that you might show up…well…” Tyrion shrugged, wandered toward the surf.

Jaime collapsed with a groan, endless blue behind his eyelids. He dreamed of long fingers and rolling waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Madelyn for putting up with my crap--and with Theon. You are so much fun to work with, even when I make you insane and you need to virtually walk away. Also, thank you so much to Jamie for walking me through a couple of really difficult segments this chapter, and encouraging me to trust my gut and power forward. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for their support of this story. In particular, thank you to @whenitwhen (on Tumblr) for the lovely art based on this story (please take a look) and to @tall-wolf-of-tarth (also on Tumblr) for putting this story on your Spotlight Saturday list. I hope this eases the angst a little.
> 
> As always, please give me a shout out, let me know how this is going, what you do or don't like. Comments are like chocolate ice cream.


	6. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That he left her with nothing, not one scrap of him to tide her through, was confirmation enough. He left nothing because that’s was she meant to him after all _—nothing._ Realization made her pining all the more unbearable, pathetic in its unilateral existence . 
> 
> Selwyn cupped her cheek in his large palm. “I’ve looked into that boy’s eyes Brienne…honest infatuation and endless admiration stared back at me. A father knows.” His rumbling voice shook through her, grounding her. _He’s wrong though._

<><><><><><>

The porch swing woke her, its _creak-groan-creak-groan_ melody a song from her past.Not that the sleep had been refreshing—or long.Brienne tossed and turned most of the night, haunted by green eyes and cold, hard fingers.It would be a lie to claim it didn’t rattle her, having Jaime Lannister here, sleeping in a cabin not a hundred yards from her bedroom.

Coffee was fresh in the pot, filling a mug she wandered out on the porch, barefoot in her pajamas.The sun was just rising over the water, painting the crests violet and gold.

“Where are we going today?” Her father looked up, a slow sad smile pulling at his lips. This was an old game—the _oldest_ game she could remember—played in a swing at her family home.She on one side and Galladon the other, Selwyn’s thick arms draped over their shoulders.They would fight (of course they would) her brother choosing some fairytale place like Volantis while Brienne whined about wanting to see the lights of Kings Landing, the quarrel settled in her father’s deep, methodical voice. “ _Who picked last time? You two take turns._ ” They would tremble with giggles as he pushed off, swinging higher and higher until the back of the seat beat against the porch posts and their toes brushed the ceiling. He would peer over the side, make whirring noises like the propeller of a plane, name the sights they were passing over.“Look…there’s the Sea of Dorne…Lys…” And he’d make up stories—of mermaids rescuing pirates, of sand storms that tousled their make-believe plane.

Shaking her melancholy Brienne curled beside him, leaned into his broad shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

They swung in silence, her thoughts drifting to another time they sat like this, as she hid on the porch in black dress and black shoes, their kitchen full of people she didn’t want to talk to and Galladon in the ground.He had whispered in her ear then “…where are you flying to baby girl?” and she’d crumpled in his lap, the sobs held in check throughout the service muffled against his arms.

“Anywhere.” The word strangled and wet. “…anywhere but here.” All the misery in her soul had tumbled out, with gasps and whines and fractured utterances of “not fair” and “why… _gods, oh why_ ” and “should have been me…”

Selwyn had shushed her, stroked her hair with “ _no-no_ baby…no.” Held her until she was empty, until her eyes were hot and her lips crusted, then silently took her hand and lead her back into the house.

“Do we need to make a break for it?” The question brought her back to the present. Raising bushy eyebrows, he squeezed her shoulder a little more tightly. “I saw a lion on the beach.”Selwyn waited for her reply, the swirl of thoughts that kept her up all night too much to put into words. “That _was_ Tyrion Lannister I saw walking yesterday…wasn’t it?”

She nodded, sloshing coffee in her lap, she cursed under her breath. 

“Am I to assume his brother…” He waited again, leaning down to stare into her eyes.

“Is in cabin number three.” She let out a loud sigh, shaking with the effort, “… _oh dad_ …he’s here.” A feeling of deja vu settled over her, the familiar ache of a different loss tearing at her stitches. Brienne fell into his embrace once more, a woman grown now, brandishing silence instead of sobs.

Selwyn hummed thoughtfully. “That took longer than expected.”

Brienne stilled with her head on his knee, failing to calm her rampaging heart.

“What do you mean?” She raised her head, met her father’s sea glass eyes with trepidation.

“I looked for Jaime Lannister to show up years ago.If the length of time it took is any indicator of the weight of hurt and guilt he’s carrying… _well…_ you have your hands full.” Selwyn stroked her hair, pulling her against his shoulder.

“It’s no excuse dad— _there can be no excuse_.” She shook her head, closed her eyes against the choking sadness. _How many barriers can he demolish, how far do I have to run before his shots quit hitting their mark?_ “Six years… _six fucking years_ …no call, no text…just… _nothing…_ ”

Brienne divided her life into two parts.And the sad truth _—the horrible, embarrassing truth_ that she admitted only to herself _—_ was that Galladon’s death did not define her.It was devastating, a gaping hole in her existence that tormented her every day. Her brother the ghost that haunted her dreams, his memory a force that rolled in like a storm cloud, stealing the light.

Galladon’s death should be the low point _—yet it wasn’t—_ and the knowledge of her disloyalty gnawed at her, was a sickness for her heart. The loss of Jaime Lannister _—his furious friendship, his beautiful frustrating spirit and everything they might have been—_ cleaved her in half.His was the wound she couldn’t recover from, and it pissed her off to no end, made her scream and cry and rage to the _Maiden_ to tug the fragility from her girlish heart. 

That he left her with nothing, not one scrap of him to tide her through, was confirmation enough. He left nothing because that’s was she meant to him after all— _nothing._ Realization made her pining all the more unbearable, pathetic in its unilateral existence. 

Selwyn cupped her cheek in his large palm. “I’ve looked into that boy’s eyes Brienne…honest infatuation and endless admiration stared back at me.A father knows.”His rumbling voice shook through her, grounding her. _He’s wrong though._

“That’s not true dad.” Brienne was timid behind the roar of the waves. “I was always just a stray, a pet.”

“Did he come here to rub your belly…scratch behind your ears?” Her father huffed, shook his head.“I’m old baby, not blind. I see what he’s after, and it’s the same as before.”

Brienne shot forward, pale and gaping. “Dad _we never_ …I didn’t.” She wanted, _gods she wanted_ , but they never…

“I know you didn’t.” Taking her big hand in his even larger one, he pushed the swing into motion once more.“But I saw the way you looked at him…the way he looked back. You forget I was young once.” Brienne stared at her father’s strong fingers, long and muscled despite his years. An unbidden reminder of the power in Jaime’s hands, of all he had lost. “I know why he’s here, and so do you.”

“He feels guilty a-and wants to make amends, clear his conscience.” It was the only thing that made sense, dwelling on other possible motivations for his visit would only lead to heartache, break open festering wounds. “Nothing more.”

“I don’t buy that sweetling.” Kissing her head, he gave her fingers a squeeze. “Do you…really?”

“Dad…” Brienne gripped his fingers back. “It’s been too long.”

“Did _you_ forget?” Her father’s voice rose with irritation, he read her too well to stomach a lie. “I doubt _he_ did either.Strong feelings settle in, make themselves at home.” He chuckled, his hand like a vice on hers. “Besides…you’re talking to a man who has seen your bedside dresser. I know where your memories hide.”

Brienne cringed. There were two frames that sat beside her bed. One a family photo taken on the beach when she and Galladon were young, and her mother was still alive.All four Tarths freckled and sunburned and shining with relaxed joy. The other one…

It had arrived a few months after her brother’s funeral, addressed in one hand, a neat _“I’m sorry”_ written by someone else on the back of the envelope.Brienne suspected Tyrion sent it, had almost thrown it away without breaking the seal too many times to count. Finally she surrendered to curiosity and once it was open, well…it wasn’t a memory to dispose of quickly.

Raising her hand to his lips, Selwyn gently kissed the rough knuckles. “What he feels for you isn’t in doubt.The real question is _‘what do you want to do about it?’_ ”

<><><><><><>

The waves were flat and slow, little to get excited about. Not that it bothered Brienne, in fact this morning she preferred it.Her thoughts were tumultuous enough, crashing and falling, steeper and faster with each roll.

Brienne returned to the sea the afternoon of her brother’s funeral, amid the gasps and side-eyed stares of her extended, unwanted family. She and Galladon grew up in the space between crests, it was their sanctuary, their tree fort.Standing beside the coffin that held what had been her best friend she felt nothing. Instead she found him in the salty spray against her cheeks, the sand and stones that tumbled beneath her toes. His voice beat in her ears, louder than the crumbling swells. On days when it was raucous and insistent, she couldn’t stop from answering. 

**“What do you say Galladon?”** She lay flat on the board, legs extended, only her arms dangling over the deep. **“I could use some advice big brother _…boy problems…_ ” **Brienne laughed loud, it boomed and cackled, bouncing off the troughs and sweeping up, circling the gulls. Here she could be herself, large and boisterous if she felt it, a speck on the surface when hurt.

Brienne couldn’t find it in her heart to return to the tour. After Galladon’s death surfing became more than a passion, it was her solace, her religion. Considering a return to competition seemed a betrayal to both her brother and the peace she worked so hard to claim.It would mean facing all those doubters, fighting and clawing back to the top. Winning wouldn’t bring the joy she once thought, not without her brother to share it, when he would never have the chance to surf against her. The importance of it withered, until it was only a husk of a dream, pale and crumbling. 

The first few months after his death she hid, only leaving her room for their daily watery communion.Useless and listless, she enrolled in online classes from the local community college out of sheer boredom. By the next semester she was attending in person, and over summer session she transferred her credits and enrolled in university. There was no true goal to her studies, and Brienne cared to the extent that it beat sitting on Selwyn’s couch day after day.Still, every morning she rose with the sun, collected her board and headed out to the only place where she felt alive, where she was real.

Her father’s stroke caught them both off guard. One day he was tall and capable, an unyielding mountain. The next she was seated by his hospital bed, watching as he frantically tried and failed to wiggle his toes, to use his left hand. Selwyn’s grief had finally caught up to him ( _“too much—too much”_ he’d admitted at last through tear filled eyes) and his blood pressure ran unchecked. Brienne spent several doom filled nights pinned flat by the realization that she almost lost the last person that mattered to her. That she would have been alone in this world.

It was while Selwyn attended aqua-therapy that Brienne understood what she was supposed to do with her life.Watching her father come back to himself—light and floating in the small, hot pool—was an epiphany. _I can do this for someone…give them this freedom…this rebirth._ She imagined all the ways she could utilize a surfboard—to hone stability and coordination, for focus and repetition. _There_ was a purpose, a goal.

She established _Oathkeeper Outreach_ for Selwyn and his struggles, to honor Galladon and give meaning to his short life and the force that claimed it. Brienne reaffirmed the sanctity of their haven, weaved water into the tapestry of her story, bound the ebb and flow to the beating of her heart. 

She established it for _him._ The _him_ she never spoke of, the one she woke crying and sweating for. The face around every corner, the missed call, the gap she never filled. Brienne could help men _like_ him, even if it was never the one she longed to help, the one she ached for. 

_I wanted Jaime Lannister for my own._

Admitting that fact _—if only to herself and the waves—_ took years. Confessing that her _Outreach_ was established in part _for_ him took several more. 

Every day spent floating against the horizon lit with a new reflection. How she never knew Jaime, not really, not like she should have to fall so hard. How his public persona enthralled her and made her feel giddy.How she was swept up in the wake of his skill and charm until she thought she belonged there. _Big, ugly Brienne with beautiful, golden Jaime._ On good days she poked fun at it _—at herself—_ at the stupid audacity of her ego and her little girl love. On bad ones she sobbed into her board and let the salt of her tears join the puddle of fickle hope that she floated upon.

**“I’m really no better at it Galladon. I still suck at this whole self-worth and introspection thing.”**

Brienne laughed the day Theon asked her out, laughed as he grabbed her hand and threaded their fingers with cocky self assurance. A lesser man might have bristled at her reaction, instead he’d tilted his chin to capture her stare, matched her gaping smile. “ _What?_ You seriously thought I came all this way for a job?” Just like that declaring his intention, placing everything on the table with the same gentle ease as he once surfed. Gangly arms and loose hips, drifting and sliding with the current as if they were one. 

She allowed him take her out a second time, let him squeeze her fingers and stroke her wrist in little circles that made her flush. When he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers Brienne had hoped _…gods she wanted…_ to feel something more. Theon was a good man, one who knew her insecurities, had seen her disassembled in the sand and fumbled to fit the pieces back. He’d comforted her when she despaired, and she longed to give her affection in return.

_I must be broken._ He broke us, and he broke me, and I can’t feel anything, and I don’t fucking care…

Brienne cried that night, closed her eyes and swam in a sea of jade. _“You fucking asshole. I hate you.”_ She heard his laugh, and cried a little more because she’d started to forget it, the way she’d forgotten the smell of her mother, finding it again in dreams.Soaking up the half-lost sound of his mirth like a drowning man’s last gulp of air. 

Theon took her rejection in stride, had the damn gall to soothe her as she confessed how she couldn’t quite get beyond _him._ Asked her _“why”_ but didn’t press for a real answer, knowing that there wasn’t one. He’d stayed on as her partner _—her friend—_ treated her like nothing strange and awkward and almost wonderful ever happened between them.

She didn’t deserve Theon, and Jaime’s memory didn’t deserve her, and this was the shitty order of her universe, and it was working just fine until… _until…_

**“Theon brought him here…can you believe that? He’s in cabin number three…”** Waving a hand at the beach, as if her brother’s spirit had eyes, as if he needed directions. **“…and I can’t seem to find the balls to talk to him.”**

A pretty swell rose behind her, curling in a lazy fold. Brienne slid to her knees and paddled, popping up as it caught her. She perched at the edge of the tumble, looking down as the water churned over rocks and rolling dirt, a steep drop between her feet and chaos. There was no hesitation as she tipped over, plummeting into the chute and a crouch in one fluid motion. She cut at the shoulder, carving and digging and slipping up the face until she spit into the air. Foam and fury at her back as the wind flattened the board to her soles and she groaned with release as a gust of air lifted her higher.

She lived for this, the flight, the fall. Bold and brash, a half-step from reckless as she pressed her body to its limit before sliding into submission and panting her release. Not for the first time she wondered why she could harness her power so easily here, and felt so weak on land.

**“I don’t understand what he wants from me. Dad thinks…well you know…he always saw the best.”** She grinned at that, Galladon and her father both thought her beautiful, both cursed the world for not seeing what they did. **“He thinks what Jaime wants…is me. B-but I don’t…I mean I’m not…”**

Brienne gazed into the currents gliding beneath her, felt the tremble of his hand as he fought to hold her, saw again the naked fear in his beautiful eyes. Forests at twilight, dim with dread and longing for… _what?_

**“He’s lost Galladon. More lost than me, and maybe I could lead him out of the dark…”** Brienne took a deep breath, salt and seaweed filling her senses, wet and heavy and filled with promise. **“Out here I’m strong, I’m invincible. Maybe, just maybe…he could be too…again.”**

The man in the cabin was a stranger, and perhaps the man she left in King’s Landing had been a stranger too. She admitted that, on good days, when she could stomach such a big dose of reality. But maybe it didn’t matter. **“I think I’d like to know him… _this_ Jaime. I might not love him, I may _never_ have loved him, still…”**

Another wave approached, gathering steam, it’s tall shadow slanting quickly over her board.Brienne grinned, the thrill of the chase thrumming in her blood, flitting in her fingers as she clawed the water. _I can ride it, I can break it._ The surety of her strength filled her, and as she rose to her feet she yelled into the wind.

**“Ride or crash…right Galladon?”** No more limbo. Forward motion, even it it drowned her.

<><><><><><>

The knock came at 9:10 in the morning. Jaime valiantly ignored the first two attempts before breaking under the insistence of the rapping, flinging open the door with exasperation.Davos stood on the other side, Jaime’s file of therapy notes clutched to his chest with a look of patient expectation.

“You missed your nine o’clock appointment.” There was no accusation in the statement, Davos appeared completely unflustered by his lack of punctuality. “Given the fact that you were unable to make the journey across the yard to collect your own toast and coffee, can’t say I’m exactly surprised.” Again no judgement.Jaime found himself annoyed by the innocuous delivery, sure there was a hidden undercurrent of distain below the placid surface.

Ushering him in with a sweeping motion, he sat facing the older man at the small dining table by the window.Davos placed both hands on the worn surface and Jaime did the same, staring openly at the missing fingers of the other man’s hand. “That supposed to make you some sort of expert?” He nodded at the injury, intentionally trying to provoke him into some sort of reaction.

“This?” Davos raised the hand, wiggling nubby remainders of fingers in the air. “ _This_ is just a fucking souvenir.” He slapped the table with enough force to make Jaime jump, leaned forward to reveal eyes filled with fiery intensity. “I’m an _expert_ because I have a masters in psychotherapy and fifteen years experience treating veterans who suffered through so much more than having their hand mauled off.Men and women who watched colleagues _—friends—_ die screaming.Who wake every night sweat-drenched and filled with the guilt of still breathing.” Silently he reached across the table, covered the end of Jaime’s stump with his battered hand and squeezed gently. “Let’s cut through the bullshit son. What do you expect to gain here?”

“That’s the real question isn’t it?” Jaime stared out at the crashing surf, letting the swoosh and roll fill his thoughts.“I used to think…if I could _just face it_ —rush back into the waves and jump on a board—then everything else would fall back into place. That I wouldn’t be an addict…wouldn’t be _wrong_ somehow.” He met Davos’ calm grey eyes, the sea after a storm. “It doesn’t work that way, does it?”

“No.” He shook his head, nodded at the surf. “Whatever you carried with you before—your tendency toward addition, your poor coping skills and screwed up view of love and family—they’ll follow you out next time.The only way to break the cycle is to face it head on, change your habits, re-think what’s important.”

“That seems…impossible.” Placing his elbows on the table, Jaime cradled his face in hand and stump. “Where do I even start?”

“Begin with something small.” Davos opened the file, put on his readers and pulled out a fresh notebook and pen.

“Paper?” Jaime raised his eyebrows, gave the older man a judging smirk.

“I like the feel of paper beneath my fingers…the scratch of ink as it drags across the lines. It’s real.” He smiled up at Jaime over the top of his glasses. “Life is all about finding what’s real.”

Jaime nodded, thoughts filled with Brienne’s too-wide smile, the way her thin hair stuck together with salt and tangled in his fingers, the squeeze of her thighs wrapped around his waist. More solid, more real, than anything he could have imagined. _“I want to be able to walk on the beach again.”_ A few steps in her direction, a start.

Davos flipped through the papers, frowning as he skimmed the lines. “Your therapist wrote that you couldn’t stand the sound of waves crashing…you moved to avoid it?”

Jaime nodded. “I got past that fear.” He couldn’t admit to Davos that dreams of Brienne eventually made the sounds bearable. That the bliss of her floating beneath him as the water rumbled and groaned was so strong it melted the panic inside him. “Now it’s only the touching…and the sand.”

“Tell me about the touch issue.” Davos looked up patiently, the silence lingered.

“It’s worse on the arm above the prosthetic, but can happen anywhere, with everyone. This feeling of my skin crawling.”Jaime rubbed at the line between plastic and flesh, mindlessly testing his own patience. “Tyrion is the only exception, but even with him there’s a limit.”

“Do you have flashbacks of being in intensive care?” The older man’s eyes were sharp, knowing.

“Yes… _yes._ I dream about it, about them _touching_ me…and it’s wrong because I know it was done out of goodness, th-that the doctors and nurses saved me, but I still _felt…_ ” It caught in his throat, embarrassment making it stick.

“Molested?” Davos wasn’t smiling, calm understanding in his weathered features.“Intensive care is a horrible place for the mind…lights and beeps that never stop. A parade of people poking and prodding and tugging at your bare-assed gown with no regard for modesty. You can’t sleep, there’s no sense of safety or belonging.” Jaime found himself nodding, sagging with the relief of someone understanding— _finally._

“I thought it was me, that my brain twisted it up…made it _bad._ I felt so ungrateful.” He clamped his good hand over the prosthetic, memories pushing to the surface with increasing force.

“PTSD following ICU admission is incredibly common.” Davos reached out, deliberately placed his hand on Jaime’s real one, holding it there. It was heavy and solid, reassuring, and Jaime did not mind it’s presence as much as he expected. “The key to feeling safe with physical contact again is believing the intention behind the action.”

Jaime relaxed, lips drawing into an almost-smile. Davos had a way of teasing apart his issues that was thorough enough to work, but not so invasive that it made him want to hide. The older man seemed completely unfazed by Jaime’s hangups, and for the first time he felt positive about his chance for recovery.

Humming thoughtfully, Davos jotted down a few lines. “What about the sand…can you pinpoint why?” It was the first time someone had asked, and Jaime knew the answer if only he could speak it.

“During the attack there was no pain…not at first. Just a bump and a really strong tug, then red filling the water, splashing up on my board.” He closed his eyes, hand flat to the table and trembling as he forced himself to remember. “Only when I realized it was blood did the pain set in…I screamed.” Jaime’s voice felt hoarse with the memory, how he howled and screeched as they dragged him onto a boat, dragged him to shore.

“And the sand?” Davos leaned forward, demanding his attention. “Jaime…why the sand?”

“While they were carrying me across the dunes I went limp…looked behind me. There was a trail of red, my blood pouring out so fast that it made a path. They laid me down, waited for the paramedics.It pooled around me, turned the sand to crimson pudding. Do you know what blood smells like…not a little…a lot?”

Davos nodded, ghosts danced between them. “It’s horrible.”

“Meaty…metallic. I gagged.” Jaime turned away, bent double, rocking. “Grit stuck in the wound _—coated it—_ wiggled its way into every wet crack and crevice.”

“So now…when you feel sand…” The older man encouraged Jaime to finish.

“I’m back there, bleeding out on the beach.Holding my slick, gritty, raw stump.” He shook his head, filling with despair. “How do we fight that Davos?”

“You can’t fight it, can’t forget it. You can only re-learn how to _deal_ with it…your memories…your fears.” Davos smiled softly. “Have you ever been hypnotized Jaime?”

<><><><><><>

Jaime spent the following day in cabin number 3, pinned down on both sides.The front door led to the cottage and the looming threat of being in the same room with Brienne and his intolerable guilt.The back door offered no escape, a small deck that emptied onto miles of rolling sand, the sea full and taunting stretched beyond.After several hours of inching forward he managed to maneuver a folding chair half-in/half-out of the beach exit, and as long as he avoided grains between his toes it was bearable. 

Tyrion checked on him, brought lunch when it became apparent Jaime couldn’t muster the courage to head to the kitchen himself.He watched Theon lead two therapy sessions: One with a middle aged man missing his arm below the elbow, and another gripping a terribly nervous young woman whose scars lived somewhere deeper.He was kind—excessively patient—more focused than Jaime had ever found him to be on the tour.It was obvious that the young man was a good employee, devoted to his job. _Devoted to her._ The thought crept into his brain and wouldn’t shake loose, made more solid each time Theon cut his eyes in Jaime’s direction.

Brienne showed up early afternoon, leading a pair of coeds to the beach for a lesson. Jaime could tell at a glance that neither girl had been on a board before, both wearing tiny bikinis, more interested in giggling and tan lines than catching waves. He lingered on Brienne, drilling the young women again and again on how pop up off their knees, how to crouch. The girls kept slipping off into the sand, laughing and clumsy, lacking any real intent. He repeatedly checked Brienne’s face, waiting for the familiar furrow to form between sun-bleached brows, for hands to fly to her thick hips with exasperation as she stomped off in the direction of the cottage.

_She’s laughing._

It was a gut punch, this feeling of unrest, meeting the unknown version of Brienne standing tall and loose in the sand. Shoulders pulled back expectantly, the slouching hesitation he’d come to expect missing from her steady pose. Jaime noted for the first time the suit she wore, navy and one-piece, with thin straps that criss-crossed over her muscled back, leg openings cut high on her thighs. It would be modest on a smaller woman, but stretched across her long form it seemed skimpy, revealing. Even from this distance Jaime could see the spray of freckles that covered her shoulders, poked out from beneath her suit. For once he let his eyes linger—on the way her spine dipped gracefully into her pelvis just above the line of her suit, the firm curve of her ass, the pull of material across high, flat breasts.It was exhilarating, and dirty. Jaime’s cheeks flared, glad for the sunglasses hiding his guilty indulgence.

No longer the gangly girl he knew, Brienne had grown into herself, carried her broad shoulders with a knowing heft, loped long legged through the surf with deliberate surety and a strange kind of grace. 

Jaime had understood the foal, but was staggeringly unequipped to come face to face with the full grown mare. A woman who knew her strength and how to wield it, who had settled into her unconventionality with—if not joy—then at least peace.

Jaime watched with growing discomfort as she splashed with the other young women in the surf, none of them taking it too seriously, sliding on and off the boards without catching a single wave. The stick of her suit made him squirm, and as he stared transfixed at the water sluicing down her chin, glistening on her chest, Jaime realized with shocking firmness _exactly_ what he wanted from this Brienne.

“Fuck… _fuck!_ ” Covering his face with his hands, he forced himself to look away. He had _known_ it—of course he had—but knowing his longing and experiencing it in blinding, aching color were two different things.All those years and it never receded, never dulled, had raged back at the sight of her with ferocious intensity. “So what are you going to do about it Lannister?” He spoke the words to the growl of the surf. 

The girls were sitting on their boards now, watching as Brienne paddled out alone.She caught a smallish wave, not working hard, tripped without trying into the chute. The same tense breathlessness enveloped him as he watched, as she cut effortlessly through the tumbling face. _This is different too._ Jaime shook his swimming head, tried to settle the nasty, empty feeling of not knowing anything about her.Brienne was stretched, lean and taut, her crouch like a spring. “Old muscles.” He said it aloud, grumbling with jealous pride. Control she had once coveted in him now easily wielded, perfected in her quick, biting movements. She shot to the lip, flew like an arrow over the whitewater, a blinding streak, before landing without a splash and knifing back to shore. 

The girls erupted in claps, squealing with appreciation as Brienne dragged her board onto the sand.She blushed _—at least that hadn’t changed—_ and Jaime felt his own skin heat at the red that streaked up her chest, collected in her smiling cheeks.They flocked around her, patting her shoulders, grabbing her fingers and dragging her with them toward the cottage. _Flirting?_ This was new too, that her appeal wasn’t his alone to discover, power and passion hidden from the rest of the world. Brienne for her part seemed non-plussed, unaware of the admiring glances they cast her direction, the unearned familiarity of their touches.

The sense of her being _too much_ for him caught him off guard, made him stand and kick at the legs of the chair like a spoiled child. “What the devil are you doing here?” He circled his cabin like a caged animal, snarling at the walls until he saw the girls leave shortly after, changed and smiling as Brienne leaned out the kitchen door, waving them off. She glanced toward his cabin, and Jaime jerked back into the shadows of the room. “Coward.” He breathed it into the emptiness before sitting on his single bed, staring at the suitcase beneath. He would tell Tyrion tomorrow, this was a bad idea.

“I’ve lost her.” Jaime confessed the words into the roar and crash of the surf, the incoming tide drawing closer to his door. He listened for their reply, nodding in acceptance as they confirmed what he already knew. _You never had her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a little quick for an update, and I'm running out of pre-written chapters, so the pace may slow a bit. Thank you again to Madelyn, Jamie and Ro for their thoughtful feedback. I'm so lucky to have people to bounce my crazy ideas off of. You are all so appreciated.
> 
> Please let me know what you think.


	7. Safe Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …a surfboard wide enough to for two grown people to stretch out, soft skin, warm bodies…bleached hair tickling his chin, sparkling eyes the color of heaven glancing over a freckled shoulder…fingertips that tangle beneath salty spray…deep even breaths…the rise and fall of swells beneath them…pulsing like a heartbeat…
> 
> “Yes.” Jaime’s voice was slurred, thick. He longed to stay there—with her. 

<><><><><><>

Davos arrived at his cabin at nine o’clock sharp, once again clutching his file and notebook, a look of stern sympathy on his face. “Have you made it to breakfast yet?”

“No-not yet.” He felt himself flush, sank down on the edge of his bed with despair. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Assuming you didn’t miraculously wake with the ability to jog on the beach, ride the waves and cuddle some sweet thing with abandon?” Jaime harrumphed, rolled his eyes. _Gods if only._ “Well then scoot your ass over and lets get started.”

Davos spent the end of their last session calming Jaime’s fears regarding hypnosis, assuring him that the charlatans on television—those who convinced people to cluck like a chicken or some such nonsense—were full of shit. “You will be in complete control of your mind…just _very relaxed_ …open to suggestion.”

Jaime laid on the bed, closed his eyes. “Not a word of this to my brother…”

Davos chuckled. “Of course…of course.” Sliding a chair close to Jaime’s head, he spoke low. “I want you to find a safe place—a _comfortable_ place—one that speaks to you in calming repetition.A hammock perhaps…a rocking chair?” He paused a moment, waiting for the vision to solidify in Jaime’s mind. “Do you have it?”

_…a surfboard wide enough to for two grown people to stretch out, soft skin, warm bodies…bleached hair tickling his chin, sparkling eyes the color of heaven glancing over a freckled shoulder…fingertips that tangle beneath salty spray…deep even breaths…the rise and fall of swells beneath them…pulsing like a heartbeat…_

“Yes.” Jaime’s voice was slurred, thick. He longed to stay there—with her.

“You’re heavy Jaime…so heavy.Your _toes_ are heavy…your _feet._ ” Davos moved up his body, naming each part, a sing-song soothing to his voice that bobbed like surf. “…too heavy to lift.” Jaime thought of trying, the act of raising his arm seemed hard _—distant—_ not worth the worry. “Now I want you to imagine the day you lost your hand…but this time the panic won’t find you. Not in your safe place…it can’t touch you there.”

Jaime saw the rut his limp form made as it dragged along the beach, the puddle of blood, sipped the smell that lingered in his throat.He looked at it from outside, his mind elsewhere, adrift. In his memory grit clung to the open wounds, while in the sanctuary of his daydream Brienne smiled, held out a handful of sand. It sparkled between her fingers, drifted in thin streams across the water like moments falling away. _“Claim them.”_ A sigh in the wind.Time passed unchecked, Jaime floating in the warm glow of Brienne’s memory.

Davos’ soothing voice brought him back to the present. “Tomorrow you are going to walk on the beach, and when the sand between your toes is too much I want you to come back to this moment… _that spot_. Can you do it?” With difficulty he opened his eyes, nodded slightly.Jaime blinked lazily, gazing at the older man, traveling from haggard face to ravaged hand.

“Do you have one…” His throat was dry, the words cracked. “…a safe space?” Jaime knew he was imposing, crossing a line intended to remain fixed. At that moment it seemed terribly important to know that he needed one too, that the older man’s weakness once rivaled his own and he had survived, then thrived.

Davos closed his eyes, lips twisting in a fragile smile. “My father was a farmer…had this great big green tractor, the cab a little box of glass. When I was four he’d let me sit in his lap and help steer. I’d get so warm in the sunshine, pressed against his chest, that my eyes would drift shut and he’d slide me to the floor, tuck me between his thigh and the window. I could smell the dirt through the cracks, hear the gulls cry as they circled behind us searching for bugs in the tilled soil.” He was still far away when his eyes opened, held Jaime’s questioning look. “When it’s hard I go there. Bouncing in the floor at his feet, the rumble of the engine lulling me to sleep. Safe. Loved.”

Need yanked at his center, a desperate want. “So, this bullshit _—it worked for you—_ th-that is there’s a chance it will work for me?” Jaime’s pulse quickened, mirrored in the faint tremble of his voice. The idea of being better _—normal—_ so fragile he was afraid to hold it, that it would crumble in his hands.

“That’s the goal son. It’s still a leap of faith.” Davos tilted his head in the direction of the cottage. “Next time we _are_ going to discuss what is frightening enough to keep you out of the kitchen…and what to do about _her._ ”

The older man’s eyes were glinting, steel and sunshine, cutting through his reluctance. _Well fuck._ Jaime felt at ease with him, and he desperately needed to talk about Brienne to _someone._ Davos would do. Slowly he returned to his body, letting her memory sink to the bottom of his mind once more.

_I’ll give it another day._

Later that night he settled in the same bed, weighted and limp and filled with the feel of her _—of Brienne._ The smell of seawater and the rise and fall of waves rocking him to sleep.

<><><><><><>

_One hundred yards…seventy yards…fifty yards…ten yards…_

Jaime counted his way across the gravel parking spaces, clenching and unclenching his sweaty fists, climbed the five steps to the small back porch and huddled against the wall, quaking inside. The kitchen door loomed to his right, open and inviting, only a screen separating him from coffee and juice and _—Brienne._

The sound of her voice drifted out into the heavy salt air, deeper than he remembered, gritty and sleepless in a way that was sorely familiar. His heart fluttered, beating around his chest, frantic to escape.He had avoided her since their first awkward reunion, fearing that her tentative welcome had evaporated in the days since. 

Jaime peeked around the frame, furtively taking in the way her hair fell across her shoulders _—longer now—_ the stretch of pale legs beneath cutoff shorts as she reached for a mug.

“What’s on the schedule today?” Jaime startled at the sound of Theon’s voice, swallowing a growl as the other man circled the table, stood too close to Brienne. He nudged her elbow and she grunted, retrieved a second cup and poured his coffee along with hers.“More lessons?” His voice rose, barely holding in a chuckle.

“Dammit Theon…you stuck me with the coeds on purpose.” Jaime grinned at the unladylike grumble in her tone, the stubborn girl he expected showing up at last. 

Theon slipped a hand around her waist, leaned in close. “I thought you three got on smashingly.” He pinched her side and Brienne chuffed, prying at his fingers until he relented. “Maybe you’re planning a date…or two… _two in one…_?” Jaime strained to see her expression through the screen—terrified it might be delighted—happy to see instead the snarl he had grown so fond of. 

“You’re impossible.” Brienne thrust the cup of coffee at him, drops swishing over the rim to collect on the white countertop. _She knows how to fix his coffee._ The quiet intimacy ate at him. 

There was a pause where they simply stood together, existing side by side with an ease that clawed at his insides, broken only when she spoke again. “Did you do this?” The room was still, Jaime heard Brienne’s exhale as she twisted away, pressing her back to the counter, suddenly defensive. “Did you tell him to come?” Swallowing hard, Jaime withdrew a few inches, sure of who the _“him”_ was.

Theon sighed, hid for a pause behind the mug. “Yeah…I texted Tyrion.”

“Why?!” Lowering her cup with a clack, she rolled her shoulders in frustration. “…he appears without warning.I had no say…”

“No… _no_ you didn’t.” Theon stood his ground, deliberately inching back into her space, ignoring Brienne’s deepening scowl. “You know— _you know—_ what your opinion means to me, but on this one particular subject… _well…_ ” He snatched at her fingers, hooking the tips and pulling them close. “…it’s for shit.”

Brienne jerked free of his touch, slid another foot along the counter edge. “Y-you had no right. Just because you were there… _after._ Because you know what he _-it_ …h-how I…” Jaime’s knees felt loose, a low buzzing in his ears that grew louder as he watched her face contort with hurt. Her beautiful eyes growing frantic and lost.

“I won’t watch you hide any more!” Theon grabbed her wrist, gave it a tug that Jaime felt in his stomach, he stepped forward with the intent of punching the man into next week if he didn’t let go of her soon. “I thought with time…w-with distance an-and _friendship…_ you would find your way out of Jaime Lannister’s shadow.”

She hissed, yanking free of his hand. “That’s hardly fucking fair…”

“Oh I’d say it’s _completely_ fair, one hundred percent on point.”He roared now, patience breaking.“…ask Davos… _ask your father…_ ” Brienne’s nose crinkled, and Jaime prayed to the Maiden that she wouldn’t cry. _If she cries, so help me, I will bust through this screen, make that asshole swallow his words and hold her…_

Jaime whined and pressed closer to the siding, thankful for the ever present rumble of the surf drowning out the sound, even to his ears. He ached, deep inside, a sore longing to be near Brienne that never dulled. Twisted and faded with years and space until he didn’t understand it—not really. _Do I mourn the girl who idolized me, or do I want the woman she became?_ The answer to that question came quick and sharp. _I never loved enough, not enough to protect her from me. But I want—I_ still _want._

Theon sighed, ran fingers through his shaggy curls before pressing into his eyes, steadying his breaths. “I love you Brienne…” He held up a hand to stop her protest, and her mouth swallowed the reply. “I _do,_ too much to watch you exist in this limbo you’ve created for yourself. You work…smile…laugh a little…live a bit.”

“I live.” It was tiny, wounded.

“Not really. Not the way you deserve.” Theon scooted along the counter until their hips touched, wrapped an arm around her back, his fingertips landing short of her shoulder. _My arm would reach._ The memory of fitting, _of rightness_ , shook loose in Jaime’s head. “You needed to see him to move forward.” Theon pressed his point.

“You should have asked first, it wasn’t your place.” Her head was hanging, all the anger burned off leaving sadness.

“Would you have said _‘yes’_?” The other man’s voice was kind. Jaime’s breath caught, hoping for an answer he was sure wasn’t coming.

“No.” Brienne stared at the worn wood floor, shook her head slowly. “I’m not that brave.”

_You are!_ Jaime wanted to shout it, to grab her and shake her until she understood. _You have to be, for both of us._

“So I chose correctly.” Theon still had his hand on her back, his hip against hers. “Face him Brienne…face him and figure out what you want. Okay?” The full feeling in Jaime’s head swelled, submerging him in doubt and regret. _She never wanted me here._

“Okay.” She was nodding, lips tipping in a cautious smile as she reached around to place her fingers over his. “I love you too, you know that right?” There was remorse in her voice, soft and forlorn.

“Of course you do. All this laid-back surfer dude charm is irresistible, chicks lick it up.” Brienne started laughing, a low roll _—husky—deep_. Jaime wanted to breathe it in, swallow it down like syrup until he swam in it.

“Gods Theon…you’re so full of shit.” He leaned around to face her, grinning.Gently, as if afraid of startling her Theon reached up, curled a hand around Brienne’s neck and pulled her down to meet him. She bent easily, unsurprised by the gesture. _Jaime’s stomach clenched…don’t…_

Theon brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth. Not kissing her _—not exactly._ Jaime’s mind rejected the idea, even as she gave a satisfied little puff of air through open lips, as Brienne closed her eyes for a second and flushed a brilliant, sweet shade of pink high on her cheeks.

_She loves him. Oh gods…she loves him, a-and he kissed her and-an-_ and _Brienne kissed him back. Almost._ Enough. _Too late. Jaime’s heart was racing, strangling him._

__

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“I can do better.” Theon mouthed the words against her cheek, and she gave the same deep rumble as before. This time Jaime choked on it.

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“No.” Brienne gently patted a hand against his cheek, slipping his embrace. “…no Theon, you _can’t._ ” Jaime watched the young man frown, watched the tan lines deepen and his dark, bright eyes dull before he sighed and shut it away, forcing a smile.

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“I’ll handle the lessons.” His voice so calm, resigned. Brienne actually giggled with relief, and Theon grinned once again, his discomfort forgotten. “Yeah _—yeah._ You’re welcome.”

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“Oh stow it Theon, I know how much you enjoy the beach bunnies.” She emptied her coffee, put the mug in the sink.

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“I don’t know…you could be missing out on something _magical._ ” He placed a hand over his heart, faking a swoon. “Those two ladies yesterday were breathtaking. Just imagine…” She groaned, rolled her eyes dramatically. 

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“Guess you’ll have to take one for the team.” Theon was laughing as Brienne headed for the screen door, Jaime scrambled backward, brain on fire with his need to escape. Taking the porch steps two at a time, he sprinted across the gravel to his cabin.

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_Tail between your legs Lannister? If only Tyrion could see this._

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He slammed the door behind him, made it to the bed before crumbling, head in hands. _I can’t stay, can’t look at her knowing—_ knowing _how badly my leaving hurt. How_ I hurt her. _How I’m still_ fucking _hurting her, every gods damned day._

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He grabbed the suitcase from beneath his bed, stood to empty the contents of the dresser into it. _Shit—_ shit _.Fuck you Lannister._

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_“I broke us.It’s fucking broken.”_ Haunted by his own words. Hadn’t she heard—didn’t she understand? _Not worth her tears._

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_She’s alone._ A breath in his head, a murmur that rummaged around the empty room.

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_No-no! She has Selwyn. She has Theon._ The image of him touching Brienne set Jaime’s chest on fire, he squeezed in one gulp of air, then another. Hands shaking, he clutched the folded clothes. _It’s better this way._ He tried to convince himself, even when every instinct insisted he was horribly wrong.

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_I’m the monster._

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_< ><><><><><>_

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Knocking on the beach-front door startled him out of his sulk. Jaime had been sitting, staring at his full suitcase for an hour… _two?_ The sound was too high for Tyrion, Brienne must have sent someone to check on him.

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She stood wringing her hands, shafts of sunlight catching her white blond hair, lighting her up like marble. Lip twisted with worry, she had trouble holding his stare. “I’m here for…u-umm tha-that is Davos said that…” Brienne indicated over her shoulder, a paddle board fifty yards behind her in the direction of the surf. _Fifty yards of sand._ “I thought we might conquer your first hurtle to-together…I mean…that is…” She had always been so loud—voice low and silky and _too much_ for even her large frame. Now it faded into the roar that filled his head.

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He would not make her do this, not when she never intended for him to be here, when it wasn’t her choice.“Brienne…you don’t have to…” Jaime couldn’t stand it, the need to comfort her overwhelming his aversion to touch. With his real hand he grabbed both of hers, stilled her frantic fingers. He held them a second, until Brienne looked up—eyes slick with barely held tears—dark and grey and brewing with unsaid words. Jaime let her go.

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Brienne frowned at the release of his fingers, a perfect line parting her brows as she pondered his words, flexed her empty hands. “Bu-but you need help and…” She shook her head and he was so proud of her _—his duck—_ stubborn and good and everything right with this world. “…a-and I can do this, _w-we_ can do this.”

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“I can’t let you Brienne, you didn’t ask for this…” She huffed, and it was _so perfect_ , fears be damned he pressed a finger to her lips _—puffy and pink and just so fucking full—_ stealing her words. “It’s not right for me to force my presence on you like this…make you uncomfortable in your home.I’ll go…”

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“No!” She pushed off him—threw her head back and squared her shoulders—and shit he wanted to cry, to shout and throw his arms around her. _My Brienne. Mine._ “…no- _no_ … _not again_. Everyone thinks they know me, bu-but…you never asked before _—what I wanted—what I could bear._ Look at me!” She was shaking now, all righteous fury, and fuck- _fuck_ he still needed her. “I can take it _all_ …the pain…the loss.” Voice rising with frantic uncertainty, she pressed on. “I just need to know what _this_ is.” Brienne thumped hard against her heart and he felt it, the hurt between them, the echo in his skin.

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She held out her hand, glittering like sunlight on sand. Jaime saw the grains trail through Brienne’s tapered fingers, the moments for reconciling slipping away. 

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_Claim them._

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Lip quivering, she squinted against the brightness. “So…let’s try this again.” Taking a deep breath, she flapped her extended hand in front of him until he chuckled. “Hi, I’m Brienne…a-and I’d like to be your surf therapist.”

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“Jaime…Jaime Lannister. It’s my pleasure.” He placed flesh and blood fingers in hers, simultaneously fighting to hold on while savoring her rough strength.“Are you prepared to carry me back if we get stuck out there?” He nodded to the sea of gold between his feet and the breakers.

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“I can manage.” Brienne’s lips twisted in a happy, knowing smile.Jaime felt the sky open, flushed, kissed with sunlight as something like hope burned its way to the surface.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my writing buddies for all their support, you ladies are the best. If you want to chat about the story (or whatever) find me on Tumblr @ilikeblue. Please let me know what you think. I am truly horrible about replying to comments, just know that I treasure every one.


	8. Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne scrambled onto the board, panting and soaked, hair plastered against her face, a mixture of seawater and spittle clinging to her lips. Jaime was grinning, broad and open and glowing with pride. “Gods you’re amazing.” He was stretched out on the board in a way that felt like supplication, hands reaching toward her as he swayed on his knees. “fuck Brienne…just _-just…_ ” His forehead hit the board, and he stayed there for long minutes, a mimicry of prayer—bobbing up and down, water patting against the bottom as little sprays spurted across the sides, peppering them with droplets. Tilting his head, the mist on his cheeks sparkled like tears as he gazed with longing across the rise and fall of the sea. _“Look what you’ve done for me duck.”_

**< ><><><><><>**

“On the count of three we scoot…ready?” Jaime nodded, his jaw clenched so hard Brienne feared for his teeth, hand and stump braced against the decking at his sides. “One…two… _three…_ ” As one they lifted their butts in the air, crept a couple of inches toward the edge of the small stoop before plopping back down, each move placing them closer to the drop off and an unending expanse of glistening beach.His pinky brushed her thumb, tingles of excitement coiling up her wrist at the contact.

Brienne hadn’t appropriately considered the effect of having Jaime so close, her emotions swelling with his nearness like a dam under floodwaters, every second waiting for the crack to spread. A multitude of poor choices appearing in staccatos of inspiration _—tackle, punch, kiss or cuss—_ wrestle him to the ground and just _hold_ him until they both stop hurting, long enough to roll in the smell of him, align her heartbeat with his.

_Or we could just try to make it to the paddle board._

“Okay, next time we’re standing up…in _actual sand_.” They sat cross legged mere inches from the wood edge, Jaime gazed at the golden miles as if it were his doom looming.

“..o-okay…” He locked onto her eyes, and the fear was palpable, a fine sheen of sweat coating his high cheekbones, dripping beneath the tip of his nose.Thoughtlessly she thumbed it off, realizing too late as her fingers drifted perilously close to his lips, skipping to a stop as heated breath puffed against her skin. She jerked her hand away.

“Davos said that you were working on visualization, on establishing a safe space? Can you picture it.” Her voice came out strained. Jaime met it with a quick huff of laughter, a peculiar, searching look in his eyes.

“Yes.” he grinned, glanced down sheepishly. “I’m fairly certain I can see it…quite clearly actually.” There was something buried in his answer that Brienne couldn’t figure. “…but if I panic?”

“Then I’ll carry you back.” She said it so nonchalant, Jaime stared at her face for a split second before breaking apart in low peals of laughter.

“Of course you would.” He opened his mouth to say more, pressed his lips tight then smacked the decking with a loud _whop._ “Let’s do it.”

Jaime stood quickly, swallowed a hiss as his feet sunk into the sand. Brienne rose beside him, arms extended just in case she had to steady him. “You good?” He nodded, swallowed, eyes darting and unfocused. “Jaime…” she grabbed the waist of his board shorts, gave a quick tug. “…stay with me.”

He stumbled forward, two steps…three, wobbled to a stop and bent double for a moment before pressing on.Brienne stuck to his side, marveling at his will, how he forced his feet to keep shuffling through the panic. It felt like treading water, no forward momentum to speak of until finally _-finally_ he reached the paddle board, collapsing onto it with his feet tucked to his chest. _“shit-shit-shit”_ Chanting to himself as he rocked.

Brienne kneeled facing him, legs flat beneath her.Jaime looked terrified, curled in a ball with his usually golden skin a sickly color, hair dark and matted from sweat. With hesitant hands she grabbed an ankle and tugged his foot toward her, placing it flush against her middle. Using her rash guard as a towel she dusted it clean, wiped between his toes with the hem before returning it to the board and pulling the other foot into her lap. Jaime just looked at her, mouth agape, unspeaking until she had finished with the first one, was working on the second.“Brienne…you don’t have to, I mean it’s a lot to ask and… _shit_ Brienne, don’t…” He wilted against her, foot sinking into her middle, trembling silently. “Thank you.” The words exited like a sigh.

“It’s no problem…really.” She lingered, wiping at the soft skin between his toes before scratching a fingernail along the high arch. Jaime squeaked, toes spreading with unruly pleasure as his ankle jerked against her hands.Brienne’s eyes went wide. “You.. _ummm._ ” Tracing the arch once more, she giggled at his whimper. “You’re a foot man, huh?”

“I think that’s part of the issue.” He hummed as she absentmindedly massaged his foot, switching back to the first one after a few minutes. “They’re stupidly sensitive, I can feel every damn grain of sand.” Jaime went silent, closed his eyes before asking. “I suppose Davos told you about my multitude of hang ups?”

“Only what was necessary…but _yeah,_ I know about the sand issue a-and the bleeding, the _wet sand_ thing…” She pressed deeper into the muscles with her thumbs, working through the tension. “…and the touch stuff, but you seem to be doing better with that?” Eyes popping open, he fixed on her hands circling his foot.

“I suppose I am.” He relaxed once more, leaning back on his elbows. “Maybe it’s just the company.”

Before she could curtail it, a satisfied little grumble slipped out, and she glanced up to see a pleased expression cross his face, lost quickly in the glare off the sea. “You’re good at that.” His voice was comfortable, sleepy almost. Brienne found herself wishing they were in the cottage, draped across one of the big, ratty couches in the sunlight.

“Sam, my physical therapist friend, worked with me…just in case. Some of my clients get cramps while surfing.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, focused on the catch of his calloused skin beneath hers. “…and I have huge hands, which helps.” Brienne raised one palm out, fingers parted, gave a snort. “Look at that monster.”

“You have beautiful hands.” The fervor of Jaime’s stare made her squirm, butterflies taking flight in her stomach. “I noticed them that first day…behind you in line. Long and tapered, _so strong_ …the nails are flat, wide…a-and you have these _teensy-tiny_ freckles across your knuckles that slip into the crinkles…and the folds…” Jaime gave a string of frantic blinks, tongue absently tracing the bottom row of teeth.

Brienne swallowed, choked on a vision of Jaime licking her fingers into his mouth, suckling until she moaned. She pushed the thought away, took panting little breaths as moisture collected on her neck, trickled down the center of her back, teasingly slow. 

_Silly, silly woman._

Releasing his foot she patted his knee good-naturedly. “Are we going to make it to the water?” She nodded at the remaining ten feet, knew intuitively that the wet sand near the shore would be the most difficult for Jaime to maneuver.

_“Shit.”_ Jaime held his face in his hands, started rocking again. “Don’t let me drown…promise?”He forced a smile, but there was deep unrest swirling beneath the surface.

“Jaime, I’ll take care of you.” _I would have all along._ Brienne bit her lip to contain the angry retort that lingered in her throat whenever she spent prolonged time in his company.She wanted to butt against him with teeth bared, question _why the fuck_ he never thought to ask her help before, when she had been so willing to give it. Why he hadn’t trusted her with his weakness.

“I know _—I know,_ you will…you wo-would have, you’re _good_ Brienne…” Casting a sideways glance, his voice dropped further, replying to her unspoken reproach. “Overly kind for a scoundrel like me.”

_Maybe my thoughts are too loud._

Brienne huffed, struggled to expel the hurt of her memories. “Ten feet Jaime… _ten gods damned feet._ ” She stood with hands on hips, lifted the paddle and waited for him to match her stance.Reluctantly he shifted his feet to the sand, stood with a whine.As one they hoisted the board between them.“Count them down with me.”Taking a long stride that pulled Jaime along—struggling to keep pace—she called out. _“Ten!_ Don’t leave me hanging here Lannister. _”_ Another step on shaky legs, “ _…nine._ ”Another “ _…eight…so close_ Jaime…” Another “ _seven_ …good _-good._ ” Their toes sank, water squeezed loose beneath their weight, pooled across their burrowing feet, collected in their footprints. “Just a few more—just like that— _yes-_ yes…you’re doing it!” Brienne kept talking, drowning out his whimpers, the frantic heave of his breath as it grew louder and more irregular approaching the breakers.

Knee deep in salty spray Brienne plopped the paddle on the board, yelled in her most commanding voice _“Get on!”_ and Jaime flung himself atop it, knelt in a ball with his hand gripping the edge asBrienne pushed through the crashing surf.Digging in with her huge legs, she shoved the mass of the board forward, cutting through the smaller waves, riding the tail up and over the crumbling lip of larger ones—clinging tight until _at last_ they broke through to the other side.Floating in the calm beyond the crashing surf.

Brienne scrambled onto the board, panting and soaked, hair plastered against her face, a mixture of seawater and spittle clinging to her lips. Jaime was grinning, broad and open and glowing with pride. _“Gods you’re amazing.”_ He was stretched out on the board in a way that felt like supplication, hands reaching toward her as he swayed on his knees. “ _fuck_ Brienne…just- _just…_ ” His forehead hit the board, and he stayed there for long minutes, a mimicry of prayer—bobbing up and down, water patting against the bottom as little sprays spurted across the sides, peppering them with droplets. Tilting his head, the mist on his cheeks sparkled like tears as he gazed with longing across the rise and fall of the sea. “Look what you’ve done for me duck.”

She opened her mouth to correct him, to yank back the affection he hadn’t earned, but in that moment found it impossible. Brienne closed her lips to the wayward thoughts, pressed her eyes tight to keep from crying. _We’re home._

**< ><><><><>**

Jaime leaned back on his elbows, watching Brienne paddle as they skirted the break line, parallel to the shore.The surface was glassy, a steady rise and fall as they slid over the backside of waves, broken but he occasional school of fish turning the water silver.

“You’re supposed to face forward.”She was frowning in a way that he found affectionate, swiping at his knees with the paddle but never hitting her mark.

“I like the view in this direction.” Brienne made a disgusted sound, flicked her head to clear the hair from her eyes. “You’re really tall, I’d forgotten.” He hadn’t _—not likely—_ not when his nights were filled with the memory of her standing so close their chests grazed, pinning him in place with eyes like cloudless skies. “And I feel safe with you driving.” She rolled her eyes, actually whacked him with the paddle this time.

“What was it like?” She waved a hand across the expanse of rolling darkness, tucked her chin, unable to meet his gaze. “…I-I m-mean you don’t _have_ to tell me… _obviously,_ and this might not be the _best_ time _—_ but I wonder…”

Jaime told her _—methodically, ploddingly—_ of the attack. Of his initial disbelief followed by burning, searing, unrelenting pain and blood… _so-_ so much blood— _blood everywhere._ Sudden and unexpected as a slap from a friend, the shock and broken trust that blindsided him, set his world spinning. His memories of being dragged from the surf were watery and weak around the edges, foggy remembrances of a mind already shutting down.

Somewhere in the middle of his recollection Jaime lost track of time and place. The white caps gliding by, his body lifting and settling with the rock of the board as Brienne dragged at the surface in lazy swipes, the movement of her arms a hushed dance against the shimmering horizon. Memories flowed from him like venom, a languid draw of truth and pain until he was empty.

_I should tell Davos, I found a new safe space._

Brienne listened without comment, occasionally searching his face, wordlessly asking _“Is this okay? Are you alright?”_ Jaime found it hard to do more than blink in response, that same weighted feeling he found during hypnosis holding him to the board _—to Brienne._ She let him stop when _he_ decided it was time, let the story settle around them before speaking.

“Why didn’t you call me?” It was so gentle he wasn’t sure she actually said anything, that it wasn’t his guilty mind asking the question he dreaded most. Jaime tracked the sound slowly, finding her face hard, braced for the strike, eyes glassy and distant.

“At first I didn’t want to pull you into my misery…it was _so deep_ , and I wallowed in it.” Jaime covered his face, hiding from her judgement. “It was _wrong…_ I should have called you. B-but you were _so young…_ you had a whole life in front of you…a-and I didn’t want you to be shackled with a cripple. And you _would_ have been—Brienne I know that _—know you…_ you would have come, would have stayed by me…”

“It wasn’t your damn choice.” She cut him off, ice and steel. “I was _something_ to you…we were so-something to each other. You owed me the choice. It was a bullshit move Jaime.” He tried to reply, opening and closing his mouth soundlessly as Brienne barreled forward. “I felt so betrayed when you didn’t show up. Your lack of concern tore my world apart…not a second thought, no chance to _try_ and hold it together. Everything was just… _gone…_ ” Emptiness spilled into the air, hurt and longing rolled off her skin in suffocating waves.

“Brienne I never meant to…that wasn’t my intention. I wanted to spare you…”

_“From what?”_ She was yelling now, it carried easily across the rumble of the waves.

_“_ From _me!”_ Dammit why didn’t she understand? He was broken, would have broken her… _and oh gods, we are actually having_ this _conversation…a-and shit_ -shit _it’s too much, too real and we are having it in the middle of the_ gods forsaken sea _—and she_ _knows-_ knows _I can’t swim back…a-and dammit Brienne why didn’t you chop my other hand off and feed it to the fucking Stranger for breakfast if the plan all along was to get me here_ —like this.

“I _wanted_ you!” Her mouth snapped shut, twisted with discomfort at revealing too much. Drawing a practiced breath through her nose, she centered herself before deliberately releasing it through parted lips. “Just _you_ …not the god-like surfer, not the shiny, perfect person, not Mr. Lannister the golden boy of _Legacy Lines_ or Tyrion’s brother or Tywin’s son… _Jaime._ I wanted Jaime—insecure and battered, imperfect, unwhole _—all of it._ ” The plea in her voice reached him, drug him from the spiral of self loathing he was sinking in. “I should have tried harder…found you and forced you to let me in, let me help. That’s _my_ sin to bear.”

_She’s so brave._ Standing tall, the sun behind her shoulders, Brienne cast him in her long shadow, honesty spilling from her pores, pulling at him.

“I called you.” Jaime curled in on himself, balling tighter at her feet. “Once…after…” He shook his head furiously, reminding himself that there were _some_ secrets he would keep.

“You didn’t. I never saw your number…” Brienne was frowning again, brow bunched with distrust.

“I borrowed a phone from…” _Some whore I had just fucked while screaming your name?Gods,_ less _detail here Lannister._ “…some- _someone._ The bills piled up when I was using, my account was cut off half the time.”

She chewed on his words for long moments, wordlessly turning the board around for the trip back.“Did you get my messages? Aft-after Galladon _…after._ I called.” Pain leaked from each syllable, she stumbled over the question.

_“No.”_ Tyrion heard them, they were the reason his brother goaded him into calling her, but Jaime never broke down and listened. When she called he had been too fucked up to care about anything but the next fix, and by the time he realized what happened it was too late.Galladon was dead and buried, and along with him the last fractured pieces of Brienne’s friendship and trust. After he lost her completely the unclaimed words became an ache in the middle of the night—a last gift—and Jaime would lie awake imagining her rich, sultry voice speaking guilt laden words of grief and parting just for him.

At the time it seemed romantic. But now—sitting in the salty spray with Brienne looming larger than life—it felt pathetic, craven. “It’s probably for the best.” Her arms moved mechanically, guiding them through the currents with ease. “By the end…I wasn’t polite.”

“Well, I deserved a thrashing, verbal or otherwise.” Brienne blushed, and without her wet suit Jaime could appreciate how far the pink spread as it dipped below the neckline of her shirt, picked up on the far side of her sleeves to coat her biceps and elbows.He watched her paddle, knew the question he was itching to ask would hurt her but found himself helpless to stop it. “Where you there the day Galladon died? Did you see it happen?”

Flinching, she gripped the paddle so hard that her knuckles turned to stone in the glaring light.Brienne took her time, glanced out over the churning sapphire expanse as if the answer lingered there, when she met his gaze her lashes glistened. “Dad _was_ …I had a competition the same weekend, in Lannisport.” _And fuck, isn’t that fitting?_ Jaime’s insides clenched at the realization. A few miles from his home _—_ his _Brienne, at_ his _home—_ dying inside, and not a Lannister about to comfort her. “P-Pia found me and t-told…he was already gone.” The tears were running now, straight down her cheeks, flying off her jaw in little sprays of her own making. Brienne didn’t spare a hand to swipe them, lost in her recollection. “He was surfing a new stop and there were rocks he didn’t know about and he just…lost his footing. It could have been me…o-or you…or…”

She broke with a gurgling gasp, and Jaime lurched upward, pulled toward her pain. The need to comfort overwhelming any sense of self preservation.Brienne held up a hand,choked out a “no _-no_ ” as her eyes cut him down like twin blades—slick and sharp in the reflection off the water. _You had your chance. You failed._ “This is my pain— _mine alone._ I offered you the chance to help me carry it and you didn’t—whether your absence was by choice or not doesn’t really matter now—that’s _your_ burden to carry. The memories and my hurt are all I have left of him.” Her eyes were so full, grief and longing topping them to the brim, streams of sorrow overflowed the glassy grey depths.

“I-I’d like to hear about your brother…who he was a-and what he was like.It’s _not_ my right—I know _-I know…_ ” Jaime met her shattered expression, begged for understanding. _I want to make this better, and for the life of me I don’t know how._ Please- _please take the bait, let your prickly defenses slide—just a moment—and help me fix this…_ “Tell me about him, _talk_ to me Brienne… _please?_ ”

The paddle cut through the shallow rises with methodical sloshes,never stopping, never pausing. Brienne clamped her jaw shut, the lines around her mouth and between her brows deepening. Jaime waited, with only the tapping of little crests beneath the board and the wet sound of Brienne’s breath to cut the silence. When the tracks on her face had dried and the faint trembling of her lip stilled, she started to speak.

“He was tall…taller than me by an inch or two, with the same sun-bleached hair. He wore it longer, dad picked on him for that.” She scrunched her nose, lips tipping up in a reluctant smile, memories of her brother pulling the joy out of her heart in spite of the sadness filling the rest of her. “Galladon had breathtaking eyes, like treetops reflected in still pools, more green than blue.He was my first friend, we did everything together.”

Brienne’s voice was mesmerizing, the way it curled around her brother’s name with cozy affection, the deep notes that cradled Jaime in compassion. He wanted her to keep talking, to sneak back into her life one pilched memory at a time. “Who learned to surf first?”

“My first memory…” She closed her eyes, Jaime could see her sorting through the images looking for the right one. “…my mother was alive, so I must have been five _…I think?_ Galladon was already pretty good, slicing around me on his board. My father waded in chest deep so he could push me into the small waves. The poor man did it again and again…I was a headstrong child.” Brienne flicked her eyes to him, they sparkled in the sunlight, daring him to reply.

“And look how you’ve grown into this paragon of patience…able to tolerate even the likes of me.” She chuckled then, a low chiming that echoed between the crests and filled his head. “I’m sorry Brienne…” He knew the timing was for shit, and that she’d likely spit the words back at him, they scurried free from his mouth before he could catch up. “…for missing my opportunity to meet him, for screwing up the chance to be the friend you needed when you lost your best friend.”

Brienne flinched, her honest features pinched with pain so sudden, she turned away to hide it. Jaime wanted to take it back, snatch the apology from the air, apologize for his imprudent apology and scratch it from the transcript. _But_ Brienne _—stalwart, even-keeled, ever-thoughtful Brienne—_ turned it over in her head. He saw her gnawing at it, digging down to the marrow of his words as her face went placid, then tender. “I wish you had met him too, he would have liked you. _An_ -and it seems _not right_ somehow that two people th-that I…that were…” He could hear the sigh, loud and long over the little white caps clipping at her feet. “You should have known each other.”

There was no acceptance of his apology, Brienne wouldn’t serve him up some watered down version of forgiveness and call it truth. _Not when it’s this important._ That thought alone gave him hope, that even though she could not quite find absolution _—not just yet—_ she also hadn’t found indifference or spite.It was enough for now, that she had _heard it—considered it_.He would talk to Davos, wash his own dirty laundry, come back and say it again. _Better next time._

She sat down to face him, tucked the paddle beneath her thigh and let her fingers trail in the water.They were almost back to their starting place, Jaime could just make out the bright cottage over the rise of dunes. “I feel him here, between the waves, in the salt on my cheeks and the sand in my hair. I surf to be near Galladon.”

Meeting her even gaze, he watched as she tipped her nose back and let the rays beat against her freckle-spattered cheeks.Her eyelids fluttered, half shut against the glare. “Thank you…for this.” Jaime indicated the board, the sea beyond. She could see him through the slits of her eyes as she leaned back, unmoving. “You have no idea what being out here, with you… _it’s-_ it’s…” _The best moment in the past six years…the best since I lost you?_ Words and courage failed him.

“It is.” She grinned, and he knew that she knew, and it was okay.

With a sudden flick of her wrist she splashed him, let out a tumble of laughter at the expression on his face. “Okay Lannister, time to separate the men from the boys.” Just like that she slipped off the edge of the board, long frame and blond hair instantly swallowed by the rolling darkness.

Jaime leaned over the side, waited what seemed like long moments until she surfaced with a spurt, tendrils of saltwater trailing down her upturned face. Her hair was slick, thick droplets clinging to her brows and lashes like pearls. He was reminded of that first day, how she sat astride her board like a sea goddess, thinking perhaps he had been right all along.

“Your turn.” She held out a hand, beckoned him to the deep like a siren. “Come on…it’s baking on that board.”

The sapphires shimmered in every direction, visions of the last time he was submerged drifted across Jaime’s mind in a haze of red, torn between sitting afraid in the sunshine, or joining Brienne in her cool, watery embrace. She blinked up with those fucking bottomless eyes and his decision was made. With calculated movements he wiggled to the edge, slid gingerly into the surf. There was a beat of panic as he went under, as the bubbles from his frantic kicking collected under the board, clung fleetingly to Brienne’s rash guard.

He bobbed to the surface beside her, and she immediately wrapped a strong arm under his shoulders, gripped the board with the other, steadying them both. “Look at you, you’re doing it Jaime!” Something big brushed his leg and he panicked, jerking away and almost sinking. “Whoa, _whoa…_ that’s me.” Brienne deliberately ran her toes along his shin before curling a foot around his calf and locking him tight to her side. “Don’t try to wiggle away again.” 

They drifted together, Jaime lashed to Brienne’s side by the force of her embrace, while she anchored them to the board.Her face inches away, he could count the wet brown dots on her nose, trace the sparkling crust of salt that collected in her hairline. With hand shaking, he ran a dripping fingertip down her nose, felt the bump at the bridge, found the little indentation above her lip. They were there all along, he had tucked them in his heart as part of Brienne, but never asked. “Some day tell me how you got these…and why you decided to straighten your teeth?”

Her smile broadened, and his finger outlined her lip as it shifted beneath his touch, the ball of her cheek pressing into his palm. “Next time.” She breathed it against his knuckles, hot and tempting.

“What would happen if I kissed you?” Jaime let his head fall forward until it nudged against her temple, his drenched curls catching on her ear. He wanted to _—desperately—_ to lick the brine from her lips, tangle in the heat of her mouth as chilly droplets trickled between them, lighting up their fevered skin. 

“Then…” A low groan filtered across the close space. “…then Theon would have to do your next session.” She smiled softly, Jaime thought there was regret in the deep blue of her gaze.

He huffed into her hair. “Heavens forbid.”

“Heavens forbid.”Brienne gave his waist a squeeze before withdrawing her arm, placing both hands on the board. “Now the hard part.” Raising an index finger, she pointed toward the shoreline.

It _was_ hard. The currents continually sucked them toward the breakpoint, and his pull was crappy with only one hand, but his legs were strong and his kick carried concealed fury. Brienne was a force of nature, manhandling the board into the space between crests, chasing a swell to shore as she dragged Jaime along in her wake.They stumbled together through the whitewater, tugging the board behind them, and he felt exhausted and free.Alive for the first time in _so-_ so long.It was only when his wet feet hit the sand that he panicked, all those grains embedding themselves in every sticky crevice. Just like _—just like…_

_“Hey.”_ She was right there, leaning down to pin his eyes to hers, solidify his melting bones and root him back in the present. “Stay with me Jaime.” Brienne put a hand on his shoulder before moving in front of him, bending forward slightly. “Hop on.”She patted the flat of her back for emphasis.

“Bri-Brienne…I couldn’t, you shouldn’t have to…” She glanced behind her, gave him an assessing look. He probably _was_ a sight, quaking and pale as the sand crisped on his ankles.

“Do you think I can’t shoulder your weight?” _Of course she can._ In her own way, Brienne had been doing just that for years. “Haul your ass Lannister, my other appointments won’t wait all day.” Once decided he scrambled for purchase, linking his legs around her waist, tightening his arms around her neck. She left the board and paddle bouncing in the shallows and trudged up the dunes, broad feet sinking with each deliberate step. 

Jaime drank her in, burrowed his nose into the nape of her neck and took long drags of sweat and seawater, the fake coconut of her sunscreen and a lemony tinge that must be perfume she had misted over her shoulders before meeting him. It made him giddy that she thought of it, that something as frivolous as wanting to smell good for him had crossed her mind. Brienne deposited him on the stoop of his cottage with a grunt, stretching her arms overhead with a wide grin. “Beach to door service here at _Oathkeeper Outreach,_ complements of the director.”

“Brienne, I don’t know how to…” She blushed under the potency of his emotions, gratitude and want like a living thing that reached out in front of him, stretching to pull her back. “Thank you.” Jaime stepped away, settled into his own skin, his place in her domain.

A shout rippled down the beach, Theon had grabbed their gear from the shallows, was standing with the same two girls from Brienne’s previous lesson, all three waving and yelling in her direction. “I-I’ll see you tomorrow.” She gave him a shy smile and took off jogging toward the others. Jaime watched the small group’s teasing, as they took turns jumping on her back, making her carry them in circles—Theon included.

Brienne kept glancing back, shooting looks of playful annoyance, a new closeness in the way she searched him out that had been missing before. _Misplaced, not missing._ Jaime felt the pages of her story opening, understanding her again for the first time. Brienne was still the strong, shy girl he had grown to adore. But she had adapted, bloomed in the steamy Tarth days and cool, starry nights into a woman who could appreciate attention without seeking it out, who understood that she was different from most but no longer despised it. Not hiding in plain sight, no longer placing distance between herself and the world—wary but not terrified, worldly but pragmatic.

Thoughts of her followed him all afternoon and into the evening. Remembering the feel of her hands—remarkably hard and gentle at the same time—how they pushed into the hollow of his feet and he hadn’t flinched _(trembled, yes…but that was something different altogether)_. How she willed him into the waves and wrapped her thick, strong arm around his waist and held him sure, kept him afloat. Her toes curling around his calf was a damn near religious experience that he was still thanking the gods for hours later. 

His first session with Davos kept coming to mind. _Believe the intention behind the action._ Brienne touched him to soothe him. Brienne touched him to comfort him. Brienne touched him as a reward for bravery. Brienne wanted to help him overcome his fears, to make him feel safe and whole again. _Brienne wanted him…_

Jaime sat straight up in bed, laughing maniacally at the fact that it had taken him _all fucking day_ to work his way back to that point. _“I wanted you.”_ Released from some crevice of his brain where he had tucked it like a treasure, it replayed over and over in her deep, musical voice, becoming a little more husky with each repetition.She stopped herself from saying more, but the longing was there. Jaime knew it well, was accustomed to hearing it when he spoke of her. Brienne tried to tone it down, to imply that she had craved him as a friend, a colleague… _but he knew now_.At one point she had _wanted-_ wanted him with the same throbbing intensity that he _wanted-_ wanted her and if so… _if so…_

_Shit._ Every ounce of blood in his body rushed south with urgency, leaving him spinning and lightheaded. Jaime fell back into the mattress with a thunk. _Brienne is sleeping a hundred yards away (shut up)_ a-and _“I wanted you” (_ shut up- _shut up)_ and…shit.

**< ><><><><><>**

Brienne sat on the floor of her bedroom, waiting for her old phone to gather enough charge to turn on. “What are you looking at?” She brushed a fingertip over Jaime’s smiling face, the photo of them on her bedside stand mocking her as she waited. “How come you only got better looking, how is that fair? Men are lucky assholes.” Rolling on her side, she faced the display, a little red battery blinking slowly to life.

Once it was powered up she opened the full mailbox of messages, scrolled in search of numbers with no contact information.The first was a friend of Galladon from high school, she skipped forward. Time had erased the face that matched that voice. The next an elementary school teacher who had known them both as kids. Brienne let that one play through, feeling her own eyes prick with unshed tears at the wobbly way the woman spoke about her brother.Galladon affected people like that, made lifelong connections so easily, unlike her.

Another beep. There was a long pause, the sound of furious rustling and muttered exclamations in the background as the speaker seemed to be collecting his nerve.

**“ _Bri_ …fuck…oh gods…Br- _Bri_ …oh fuck…I just. _I just_ …**

**what is wrong with me duck…what kind of monster does _that?”_**

By the time Jaime stumbled through the messy greeting Brienne was blinking fast, trying to pull back the tears. __

_He sounds so bad._

She had never seen him high, but knew instinctively by the floaty sound of his voice, the way the words jumbled together ever so slightly that he had been stoned when called her. And beneath the uncertainty of his words there was a gaping darkness, fear and disgust that was slowly swallowing him.

**“I can’t. … _just_ … _I’m_ the fucking monster.I broke us.It’s _fucking broken_. broken…broken. and I never _felt_ anything…I never _wanted_ anything so…s _hit.”_**

“Oh fuck..fuck _-fuck_ Jaime what did you do?” Brienne tried to piece it together, running the possibilities in her mind, frantic to understand how the good man she knew could act so despicably that it left him shattered to bits like the lost soul on the recording.Why he had run from her until his breath ran out and he set the road ablaze behind him. _He thought I couldn’t forgive him._

**_“…_ more. there was more to us _so much_ and… Sorry.I’m _so_ sorry. please…”**

“Jaime… _my Jaime…”_ She called his name into the empty bedroom. He had felt it _—she_ had felt it—and they both had been so damn scared and stupid, an-and she would forgive him anything _-anything…_ he had only to ask, and-and _why_ didn’t he understand that?

_Because you never told him, and then you let him leave._

**“…don’t call me. I’m dirty— _poison._ I’ll poison you duck…and I couldn’t live with… I miss…goodbye Brienne….”**

She should have listened to the messages, should have chased his stubborn ass around Westeros if necessary. Carried him to rehab over her shoulder and sat watch at the door. Wrapped him in her too thick arms and squeezed him with her manly hands, loved him so thoroughly that he couldn’t help but feel whole and wanted and safe.

_Stupid woman. You loved him._

“This isn’t over Lannister.” Brienne swatted at her tears, unplugged the phone and hid it deep in her bedside stand. She would needle him and bug him, beat the truth out of him if necessary. He would confess the unforgivable—whatever had destroyed him—and she would forgive it (there really was no other option) and then- _then…_ Maybe they could both start living again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Madelyn and Jamie for listening to my whining about this chapter. Extra thank you to Meriwyn for talking through the outline for the next few chapters in detail, feeling pretty good about it now. This is the last of my pre-written chapters, I will be playing catch up from now on. Please be patient if it takes a little more than a week to finish them.
> 
> As usual, this is where I beg for comments. I love hearing from anyone who enjoyed this (Sorry that I am such a shit about replying, some day...). Just know that every message is appreciated.


	9. Facing Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I made it to the water.” He beamed at the older man, not even trying to contain his euphoria.“I _got in_ the water.”When he bounded into Tyrion’s cabin the night before, his brother had described him as a particularly pleased golden retriever, all bounce and tail wag and slobbery affection. Jaime felt a little asinine repeating the performance in front of Davos, but…well shit. “I got in the water _with Brienne_.”
> 
>   
> “Oh well…do tell. Was it as magical as you imagined?” Jaime prickled at the ribbing, but there was no meanness hidden in the words.He was learning to read Davos as easily as the older man read him, and beneath the gruff delivery there was a pleased hum, hopeful even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some trigger warnings for this chapter. There is a little more in-depth detail of drug use. Also some discussion of a sexual interaction which bordered on non-consensual. If this bothers you, then I suggest skipping the first scene. Nothing is described graphically.

**< ><><><><><>**

Jaime was waiting for the knock, knew that Davos would be prompt as always, a left-over from his military years.At nine o’clock he threw open the door in anticipation.

“What took you so long?” He grinned at the older man, who simply raised an eyebrow in question.

“If you’re this damn perky you could have met me in the cottage.I normally don’t make cabin calls, everyone else meets me in Brienne’s office for sessions.”He waited for his response, gave a satisfied little _“humph”_ when Jaime paled at the thought.Davos patted him on the shoulder, gently guiding him toward the chairs. “Yep…that’s topic number one today.”

“I made it to the water.” He beamed at the older man, not even trying to contain his euphoria.“I _got in_ the water.”When he bounded into Tyrion’s cabin the night before, his brother had described him as a particularly pleased golden retriever, all bounce and tail wag and slobbery affection. Jaime felt a little asinine repeating the performance in front of Davos, but…well shit. “I got in the water _with Brienne_.”

“Oh well…do tell. Was it as magical as you imagined?” Jaime prickled at the ribbing, but there was no meanness hidden in the words.He was learning to read Davos as easily as the older man read him, and beneath the gruff delivery there was a pleased hum, hopeful even.

“Yes, _it really was_.” Jaime released the words in a rush, breathy and needy and much too much for this early in the session. He saw Davos’ quick blink of understanding, saw his upper lip twitch in a way that might have been amused before he smothered it.

“That’s how it is then? I had a hunch, but needed to hear it to be sure.” Jaime had a moment of panic, fearing that Davos had spoken with Brienne and she didn’t share the same all-consuming enthusiasm for his company as he felt for hers. But his face remained placid, revealing nothing, neither pity nor concern.

“I don’t know what we are to each other, not anymore. I nev _er_ understood our connection the first time, why it felt _so deep, so fast…a_ nd gods I fucked it up, so _-so_ _badly…_ ” Jaime recited the words as free of emotion as possible, more than half a decade of accumulated regret and pointless waiting, of lust and guilt and trepidation threatened to overwhelm him once that door was flung open. “I didn’t try to fix it, not after that night…” He stumbled to a halt, unsure of how to continue.

“I’m curious.You’ve been unflinchingly transparent when relating your tale of addiction and recovery, introducing me to all the monsters that stalk the dark hallways behind your eyes…but _‘that night’_ you have meticulously avoided. I’d like to know why.”Davos’ voice was low but unflinching, easily intuiting the sway this memory carried, that it was the key to understanding what was holding Jaime back.

Jaime opened his mouth, words forming and evaporating again without a sound. This sin was buried deep, he felt the pressure of it inside his head, in his chest. To release it would be a relief.He looked at Davos with frustrated eyes, still afraid, _always afraid._ “I can’t. It’s too vulgar, too ugly…if you knew, if _she_ knew…”

“Would I judge you for something you did more than six years ago— an act that had _no effect_ on my life—was of no consequence to me whatsoever.Jaime… _why would I care?_ ”He had no answer for that, knew this memory had grown unchecked into a beast that he could not face, his embarrassment and shame too great. It made no sense, not rationally, but that did not stop him from shaking at the thought of finally telling someone.“Do you think so little of Brienne…can’t you see the kindness she carries like armor, the way she clings to the best in everyone?Would she not show you— _of all people—_ the same kindness she gives to strangers, hear the reasons for what you did and try to understand?” For the first time Jaime felt chagrined, small under Davos’ knowing stare, his deliberate words. 

“She would, _I know_ she would, she’s always been so free with her forgiveness…a-and I couldn’t let her do that not _-not_ before—swoop in and make it all right, all better—like I deserved saving.”He ran a sweaty palm over his eyes, curled in on himself.

Davos gripped his wrist just above the prosthetic, warm and solid and _real_ at the center of Jaime’s writhing thoughts. The man had an opinion, it tumbled below the surface of his practiced indifference. “Let’s try the hypnosis again…but this time I don’t want you so far under that you can’t speak.Aim for calm…unconcerned…able to recall the details without evoking a visceral response to the memory. Do you think you can do that Jaime?” He nodded quickly, eager to repay the man’s faith with progress.

Jaime went to the small bed, sinking into a comfortable position as Davos propped the beach door open, flooded the room with salty spray and rhythmic rumbling.“You sure?” Jaime raised an eyebrow at the action, even as he mindlessly gulped the sea thick air.Davos grinned in response.

“Don’t fuck with me son, I know where you’d like to be. Soak it in, let the waves comfort you.” _Let her comfort you._ The implication shone clear between them, neither needing to elaborate.Davos scooted a chair near his head once more, revisited the sing-song chant that Jaime had responded to last session—tense first, then relax— _everything heavy, everything loose._

His safe space beckoned, fluid images flickering like ripples in sunlight: Brienne young and bright glancing over a sun-pinked shoulder, eyes of endless promise, cloudless skies. She giggled this time, and he stretched to press his mouth to hers, to sip the sound and see if it was sweet. _A blink and then…_ Lying on his side, plow dragging behind as a cloud of grey hovered over even furrows, hot glass beneath his hand and dust in his throat… _blink._ Lean fingers twisted in a loose knit, sunrise in silver hair and freckles, _so-_ so many freckles beneath the curve of a jaw…that unbelievable mouth. _No-no stay, blink._ Cast in her long shadow, a paddle brushes his knees playfully. _Blink-blink._ Floating in cool water, a thick weight around his waist, toes roaming the length of his calf before curling comfortably around his ankle, wet nose and wet lips and heated breath against his cheek. _“Don’t wiggle away again”_ bouncing like a chime across the dark surface. _Here, oh stay here…please._

“Jaime, nod if you’re with me.” He complied, even though his neck felt limp and his head was full of rocks pinning him to the pillow. “Good job, you’re doing _so_ well. If it’s okay Jaime, _only if you give me permission,_ I willplace my hand on your shoulder to ground you to this room, if you start to panic the pressure of my fingers will act as a tether you can follow back. Is it okay for me to touch your shoulder Jaime, I need you to tell me yes or no?”

Davos was a comfort, his touch steady and calm and completely acceptable. “Yes.” It came out thick, the sound too full.

“Can you see your safe space?” A second nod, more sluggish than the first. “I want you to incorporate the feel of my hand into that image, let it have weight.” His head filled with Brienne closing her eyes, a satisfied, drawn-out flutter of pale lashes, the movement a memory from long-ago afternoons made sleepy by the blazing heat. _It was beautiful…how had he forgotten?_ Opening her eyes, she leaned forward to squeeze his shoulder, water collecting in the cup of her palm against his skin. “Can you feel it Jaime?” Davos spoke, while in his vision Brienne smiled.

“Yes _-yes_ …I don’t mind, it’s fine.” His tongue was still too slow, but the words were coming.

“I want you to go back to that night, the one that haunts you, the one you are afraid of. I want you to describe it to me, as if you are watching it from the outside, not in your body. Do you think you can do that Jaime?” Everything dimmed, the crackle of a storm approaching from off shore, on the wind an onslaught of panic. 

Gentle pressure on his shoulder made him focus, made the clouds lighten. “Yes.” He was immeasurably proud of that one word, that he could speak at all. 

“Where are you?” Davos’ voice was low and flat.

“I’m at Cersei’s house…m-my sister Cersei, _my twin_. I haven’t had _anything…_ no drugs for two days and I hurt so bad.”He could feel it, the cramps in his stomach and the retching, _the fucking-_ fucking _retching,_ and so achy all over. His head pounded and his eyes were hot _and gods this is dying slowly, miserably._ “She said that she had a friend who could help me, a-and she’s my sister…so she wants me better you know? Cersei would make me better.” He had trusted her. The admission sounded stupid, childish.

“Of course you would think that Jaime, she’s your family.” Davos’ voice held no judgement, only calm reassurance. “Your pain made it impossible for you to make a rational decision. Can you understand that now? Try to look at it from the outside…in that moment were you capable of making a good decision? Any decision?” He waited for Jaime to catch up, his brain moving sluggishly through the scene.

“Cersei knew, _she knew_ and she _liked_ seeing me fall. The golden son brought to his knees, it made her feel powerful, as if my failure would erase her mistakes.” _Find your space dammit…find it-find it-find it-find it…_ in the center of his calm Brienne regarded him with troubled eyes, Jaime wanted to sink into her, to _never_ visit this memory again. “There was no way I could make a good choice, _not like that_ , not so far gone…a-and I _never_ should have been asked. It was cruel.” Jaime faced it headlong, his sister’s betrayal, her ugly pettiness that he never expected, even when he should have.

“No, you should never have been put in that spot.” Davos agreed too easily, Jaime fought the stupid urge to protect his twin, swallowing it down like bile. “Jaime, try to find your peace again, your sister isn’t here, you’re far from her reach _…safe-so-so-safe._ Protected— _breathe in—_ cherished _—breathe out.”_ He searched for blue eyes and blue seas. _When is the last time I was cherished?_ Davos pressed on, it was exhausting. _“_ What happened next Jaime?”

“She drove me somewhere, th-the house was nice, and this woman met us at the door, took my arm, led me to her room. She was laughing _…_ shit. _I hated her laugh._ A-and how did I even make it to the _door_ , to her _bed?_ I was bent double, gasping and groaning and gods…” With great effort Jaime opened his eyes, turned to face Davos who looked back with sad eyes. “…I _still_ don’t know her name.” Jaime snapped his eyes shut, searched for the waves, for her…

“Jaime, was this woman sober when you arrived? Was she in control of her actions?” He slowed it down, replayed the memory _,_ stopping on her face as she greeted them.

“She was in control. Not high, not in withdrawal…” Little things came back to him in vivid detail, the dissociation of the session allowing him to see things he had missed: The way she and Cersei shared a smile behind his back when they thought he wasn’t looking, it was toothy. _Mean._ The way they talked to him like a thing, a possession.

“This woman encouraged you to use drugs with her?” Davos was leading him, and Jaime appreciated the shove. It kept him from getting stuck on the way they sized him up _—together._ How dirty their glances felt.

“Y-yes. She pulled out a package of powder…we shot up.” He had never used that way before, always pills. Never _-never that._ It was a new rush, a new bottom. A place he thought he would never sink to and it had been _so-_ so easy. The letting go, the losing himself in the high. “I hadn’t…before. _Not that._ ”

“She seemed to know what she was doing, what she wanted?” The other man was leading again, although _this_ Jaime had understood, even at the time. It was practiced, a nasty little ritual and she indoctrinated him like a good boy. “Can you see now how wrong this was, what they did to you?”

“Yes…but _-but_ I did more. Whatever she asked, even when I knew _…I knew_ it was despicable.But I was in so deep, and what did it matter then, after _…after…_ ” He was waking up, heart pounding, fist clenching. His safe place long abandoned for treacherous currents and rough water.Davos leaned on his shoulder, an even push, anchoring him to the mattress, to his body.

“Count with me Jaime, _count and sway_ , feel the rocking.I need you to go back there, we are so close, _so-so close._ And I desperately want to understand, can you help me understand?” His voice was deep and rough, the bass undertone to his previous melody. It quaked through Jaime, settling him with its power. “What exactly happened next?”

“I had sex with her as payment.” He pulled as far back from this scene as he could, a child hiding in the corner, covering his eyes as they laughed and crawled beneath the sheets, as she told Jaime what she wanted to do with him and he gladly agreed. The new poison in his bloodstream making him feel potent, reckless.Jaime didn’t recognize that man, the one who had stripped off his morals along with his clothes.

“You both were adults.She knew what was happening, was the one who initiated it?” Davos didn’t sound appalled, for that Jaime was grateful.He nodded once, kept his eyes closed as he fought to control his thundering heart.“From where I’m sitting son, I don’t understand what made _this_ sin unforgivable.You didn’t harm anyone, didn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.It was risky…downright stupid from a health standpoint. Unless…” The older man paused, seemed to consider how to phrase his next question. “Were you in a relationship with someone else…an intimate relationship?”

“No… _gods no.”_ Jaime opened his eyes fully now, giving up all pretense of being hypnotized. With remorse he felt the safe place fade from his thoughts, placed on a shelf with other precious things.Davos gave a relieved exhale, obviously not ready to deal with the possibility of Jaime deflowering his friend (at the time a very young, very innocent friend) and then cheating on her. “I wanted to be Davos… _I wanted her_ , desperately.” He needed to be honest now, this was important.

“I figured that out myself.” He smiled, it still reached his eyes. No revulsion. “You have to understand that _you_ were the victim in all of this, that they set _you_ up.The only person hurt was you, why can’t you forgive yourself?” He waited, giving Jaime time to feel his words.

“There’s more.” Jaime closed his eyes, hid from Davos, from himself. “I called her Brienne.” He heard the older man silently catch his breath, hold it. “When I first… _when I…_ ” _this is sinking, this is drowning, scrambling for air._ “…when I entered her, and while I was fucking her and wh-when I _came…_ the whole time I called her Brienne.”

“Why?” It caught him off guard, _the “why”._ Jaime hadn’t even asked that question of himself, assuming it was obvious.

“I suppose on some level I knew it wasn’t her, but I hadn’t used heroin before…I was really _-really_ high and nothing made sense, everything a blur of color and sensation, and it felt _fucking good_ and I felt invincible, and…” _This is why you don’t go down this road Lannister._ He wanted to turn around, but it was much too late. “…anything that felt _that good_ must be with Brienne.”

Jaime fully expected Davos to stand up and walk out.Instead the other man squeezed a little tighter on his shoulder, nodded as understanding crept into his face, and there was _still_ no condemnation, no disgust. “You view your thoughts as ruining her—Brienne’s being, her essence. Without a single touch you brought her into that bed with you, with her image in your head you did reprehensible things.” Jaime was nodding now, felt like sobbing at the release.

_“You see?_ You see why I had to let her go?” _Now he would understand, tell Jaime to pack his bag and head back to whatever hole he crawled out of and leave beautiful Brienne alone._

“No. No not really.” Davos sighed, kept his hand in place. “There was no stain on Brienne after that night, she’s still as breathtakingly good, as pure in spirit as she was before. But she’s a woman Jaime, skin and muscle and bone, with her own set of desires that she keeps resolutely to herself. She would understand your fragility, your faulty humanity, _because she shares it_.”And maybe that was the problem all along.Jaime saw Brienne as more than human, when he should have been in awe of the amazing human she was _—then and now._ “The only person made dirty that night was you _…you_ were the victim Jaime.” He hesitated, starting and stopping before he spoke again. “I want to ask you something very personal Jaime, maybe _too_ personal.Y-you can refuse to answer, I’d understand without a second thought…”

Jaime gave a humorless huff. “ _More_ personal than what I just told you?” Raising an eyebrow he found his lips tugged into a grin, a miracle that he could see anything funny in this situation, testament to Davos’ weighted kindness and pervading good humor.

“Fair point.” The other man grinned back, looked down at his hands as the mirth faded from his face. “Have you had sex since that night?”

_Well fuck._ The old man would have the balls to go there. Jaime covered his eyes with his forearm, needing some armor in this fight.“I assume my remaining hand does not count?” Davos gave a snort of laughter.

“We’ll call that an exception.” Even through the flesh of his arm and the dark of his eyelids, Jaime could feel the man’s stare. “You’re a young man Jaime, celibacy seems a… _difficult_ choice.Can you tell me why, do you even know?”

“A-after… _after…_ even the thought of it was repulsive, at least for a while.” Jaime sighed, these were the thoughts he didn’t allow himself to think, let alone share.He felt bare, scooted away from the side of the bed toward the wall. “And the only person I wanted to do any _-anything_ with was young and innocent and moved to an island to escape me. So I just…didn’t.”

“You waited for her?” Davos managed to ask that question with a straight face. The picture of himself as a slightly worn, ever-fainting flower pining for his muscled maiden to sweep him off his feet caught hold in Jaime’s imaginings, he almost smiled. _Sounds about right._

“Not consciously, _no-_ not with any intent or plan. But _ye-yes…yeah_ I guess I did.” He managed to pull his arm away from his face, look Davos in the eyes. “I just keep getting more and more pathetic don’t I?”

“No, but the picture is getting more clear.” The older man leaned forward, narrowed his gaze of steel and smoke and rough edges. “Let’s ignore for a minute the fact that you were fucking _mauled_ and all the pain and emotional trauma associated with your injury and recovery. After that _—after that—_ you were coerced into performing a sexual act that you found reprehensible…and do not think for a minute that I am not seriously considering calling in a friend who is a rape counsellor to work with you, because that was damn close son…”

Jaime balled tighter, sputtered the start of a denial but it was no use. “I-I know.” There it was. No taking it back now.

“You made the act tolerable by associating it with someone you loved, someone you genuinely _wanted_ and _—in your mind at least—_ spoiled any true connection you might have found there. And you wonder why you have issues with _touch,_ with _trust_? How in seven hells you became sober is beyond me, that you survived being blindsided by this visit is astounding…” Davos was shaking his head back and forth almost violently, grabbed Jaime’s stump with shocking force. “You are anything but pathetic.”

Davos believed it—that Jaime was the one injured, the one used. That there was strength and fire and passion left in him, enough to _fight,_ enough to _survive._ If a man so decent could find it in his heart to understand him, _believe in him,_ then maybe _she_ could too. “I don’t know how to tell her.” He was small and lonely, hated the needy sound of his own voice.

“I can’t give you the words, you’ll have to find them as you go.” Davos patted his wrist reassuringly, Jaime was once again startled by his lack of reaction to the contact.“I think she deserves to know _everything,_ including the secrets that you would rather keep hidden…the scary, embarrassing ones that involve her. Brienne needs to understand _why_ you disappeared so completely.” 

“And then?” Jaime was afraid to ask, but he wanted Davos’ opinion.The man knew Brienne, would be able to predict her reaction as well as anyone.

“I think you should enter that conversation prepared…” Jaime closed his eyes, dreaded the conclusion of that statement… _for her to be appalled…for her to walk away and need some time…for her to kick you out and never talk to your perverted ass again._ “…for Brienne to forgive you completely, hug you waaaay too much and really _-really_ embarrass you with kindness. Get those touch meters off line Lannister, she’ll short them out.”

Jaime jerked upright, mouth falling open for long moments before breaking apart in peals of near-hysterical laughter. _“Oh-oh fuck me!”_ He flopped back on the mattress, still chuckling.

“I think _that’s_ a bit ambitious, for both of you.” Davos dead-panned and Jaime sucked in a breath so hard he choked, all the horrible dread and tension released in a fit of coughing guffaws that tapered slowly, replaced by the relentless _rumble-crash_ of the surf.

“It’s going to be okay.” Jaime spoke it to the ceiling, not sure if it was a prayer or a prediction. But it felt true.

“It is.” Davos still had his hand on his arm, and Jaime still didn’t mind.

**< ><><><><><>**

The knock was expected this time, welcome even. Brienne, _his Brienne,_ persistent and loyal and doggedly invested in his recovery asever stood waiting.“I’ve brought…well…” She nodded over her shoulder and Jaime held back a squeak, spotting the _Legacy Lines_ tandem board waiting near the surf. It was the same one, the same model at least, he searched her eyes for a sign of recognition. It was there—amusement and playfulness and maybe (gods he hoped so) an aura of wistful longing that he felt all the way to his toes.

“It seems the next logical step.” Jaime met her eyes, _so-so_ blue, hypnotic in the noonday sun. She turned back toward the sand, long legs and striding purpose. Brienne would not coddle him this time, expecting him to wade through the desert of gold alone. He wondered if she knew exactly the lengths he would go to be on that board with _her_. He wondered if he knew himself. “You _know…_ ” he drew the word out, decadent and promising, “…one of my best memories involves a tandem board…possibly my favorite memory.”

Brienne turned back, and _oh-_ oh yes— _she knew._ Damn. She absolutely, _without a doubt,_ knew what this was doing to him.How desperately he wanted to stand on the water with their arms tangled and sea breeze whipping her hair about both their faces as her scent and the surf mixed. Raising one brow she spoke, a tilt to her lips, words clear and carrying. “That’s quite a coincidence…so does mine.”

In a blink he was laughing, stepping off the small deck, the first squish of grit between toes. Jaime looked to Brienne, braced himself for the panic as she determinedly shook her head back and forth, knowing what he was facing, willing it away. _Don’t._ He heard it in his head, it flowed between them. _Don’t let it beat you._ Jaime laughed harder, purposefully digging his toes into the sand, daring it to hurt him. “I’m coming.” He shouted across the short distance, needing her tether, her pull.

She laughed too then, watching him win the struggle, watching him fight. “I have no doubt…I _never_ should have doubted…” Her eyes clouded over, regret shifting the color like clouds as she extended a hand.

He reached her in a few long strides, still grinning, mind filling instead with the memory of their last trip to the water. Left over sensations from his injury finally _-finally-finally_ receding, their importance wilting in this new world where Brienne was here and real and waiting for him.Without a word he took her fingers in his, squeezed them tight as she twined them together, arms swinging in time as they walked the rest of the distance to the board. “I gave you plenty of reasons to doubt me Brienne. I wasn’t there for you…”

“No…no…” She was shaking her head again, gripping his fingers until they hurt. “…I gave up on you, let you leave, let you struggle alone.I should have been there, helped somehow…”The worry lined her face, made the freckles on her forehead crinkle. They reached the board, and Jaime faced her, opened his mouth to stop her words. She pressed a hand to his lips to silence him. “I need to say this Jaime, _please_ let me.”

“Okay.” He conceded, wanting to pull her close and soothe the worry away. _And isn’t that a miracle, that I_ want _to hold someone, that I’m not afraid._ He sent a silent thanks to the _Seven_ for the gift of Brienne Tarth in his life _—back_ in his life.

“ _I’m sorry_ …sorry that my insecurities got in the way of what I felt for you.I immediately jumped to the worst conclusion, thought that you were bored by the big, silly girl…tired of me hanging around…” At that Jaime was forced to interrupt, the thought so ludicrous that he couldn’t let it sit uncontested.

“ _Never…_ Brienne I never tired of your company, _exactly_ the opposite. I was the one hanging around you.” He kept hold of her hand, pulling her toward him as he spoke until they were inches apart. “I wanted you near all the time… _so badly,_ an-and I was wrong for you _—too old_ and too jaded _and-_ and then the accident happened and my life spiraled out of control…but even as my world shattered, _I missed you._ ” Every cell in his body wanted to touch her, knew that he didn’t have the right. Tilting forward he rested his head against hers, unable to fight it completely.

“I should have fought for you Jaime Lannister.” He felt her breath on his face, the liquid heat of it filling his nose, his lungs. _There’s the fire, still burning, still bright._ Jaime grinned at the realization. “I _will_ fight for you from now on…do you understand me?”

“Yes Brienne…yes.” They stood for a long time, brows pressed close and hands linked.The space between them an archway framing the sea, the sky beyond.Ripples against the dark surface caught the sun, flickered like stars in daylight, and Jaime felt every one of his wishes granted in her acceptance.“I let you down in so many ways…with Galladon, with my actions.”

“You did.” She nodded against him, gave his hand a gentle jerk, solidifying their connection. “You’ve apologized, and I _will_ get over it with time…with honesty.” Brienne paused, took a deep breath. Jaime could hear her throat shake as she started to speak. “I listened to your message…th-that night, _the night._ What the fuck happened to you Jaime?”

He fell back like she struck him. Unable to control it, to stop his hand from yanking free and clamping over his mouth to hold the words inside. _This is the opening I hoped for, what Davos and I spoke of. She’s asking—tell her!_ “Bri-Brienne I want to…I _need_ to.” Jaime stumbled, almost falling, took another step away. _The sand burned between his toes, every tiny edge a knife, cutting him. He bled. The surf murmured a threat like death, a song of lost pain._ “I can’t…not _here,_ not like this. Brienne _-Brienne_ …I’m so scared.” Panic circled tighter, his head felt full and light as his vision blurred.

She closed the distance, grabbed his hand. “Make it to the water with me, surf _with me._ No more memories today.We’re done with hard questions, no more confessions or revelations.Just _-just surf_ …with me. Alright?” Her eyes were pleading, sky and sea and endless horizon that he longed to lose himself in.

“Alright.” He let Brienne lead as they carried the board, one on each end, just like the last time. She navigated them through the breakers, helped him up with broad, strong hands and strapping arms. Jaime clung to her like the last rock in a slippery current, relying on her balance to keep him above water. _My rock._

In the calm beyond the crash she pressed against his back, gripped his hips with enough force to leave a mark as he felt for the new balance point in his unfamiliar body. The loss of his hand had altered the distribution of weight, he shifted his center of gravity to compensate. Once Brienne was satisfied he could stay upright, she maneuvered them in position and waited. Jaime shouted in release with the first lift of the board, as the tumble of water gathered beneath them and the _tap-tap-tap_ of ripples buffered the bottom. In seconds they were on their feet, tipping over the edge and leaning into the curl, forcing the massive board right and skating along the shoulder.

The ability to steer a board was something so natural, so easy, it was hard to believe he had misplaced it. Forgotten with the parts of him that trickled into a faraway beach. Finding it was a gift he hadn’t expected, so freeing that Jaime thought he might fly off the board. Join the gulls and pelicans circling overhead, soar and dive at the water like they did. By the time they reached the shallows he was trembling with happiness, with renewed passion and thankfulness. In a fit of reckless joy he grabbed Brienne around the waist, twisting and flinging them off the board. They landed in a pile of long limbs and laughter, the reflection off the water lighting up her pale hair and skin, she glowed like a beacon calling him back to life.

They stumbled ashore together, slick and smiling, dragging the board as one. Jaime regretted his lack of two hands, unable to hold the board and touch her at the same time, the loss of contact was near painful.She dropped him off at his cabin with a shaky smile, both of them needing more, some closure to such a big day and neither knowing what that might entail. In the end he grabbed her hand once more, lifted scuffed knuckles to his lips as he whispered _“Thank you.”_ His mouth open and wanting against her salty skin.

Jaime hid in his cabin the rest of the afternoon, watching Brienne as she worked with other clients, watching the tide as it crept forward then retreated. By evening he circled like a cat in a cage. In the pink of sunset he saw her leave the kitchen, fingers trailing the rail as she climbed alone to her apartment. Swallowing fear in drowning gulps he crossed the graveled path and climbed her steps, reached the landing outside her door and paused.Even this little area was filled with Brienne’s touch, pots bursting with bright red geraniums and mint, a crescent moon door knocker. He gripped it, rapped once holding his breath.

Brienne opened the door without hesitation, took in his nervous stance leaning against the doorframe.There was no reluctance in her smile, no awkward pause as she took his hand. “I was hoping we could talk.” Just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my great friends for their support and pre-reading. This one was hard to write, please let me know what you think. Comments are so appreciated.


	10. Reclaiming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime watched her movements, his hand enveloped in her big, coarse caress, covered with touches unfathomably gentle. With a dead voice he spoke of shooting up, of the payment the woman expected and that he so readily offered. He was shaking now, a fine quiver of muscles that reached his fingertips, flowed through his leg and shoulder into Brienne. Soundlessly she released his hand and wrapped both arms around his chest, wringing a grunt of surrender from deep in his throat as he settled against her. She pressed a cheek to his shoulder, gripped him against her until the tremor faded. “Keep going.” Shivering as her breath brushed along his ear.

**< ><><><><><>**

Brienne lingered on the porch before dinner hoping he’d walk by, then meticulously washed and put away every dish in the sink hoping he’d make it to the kitchen.After a few hours of _not really waiting_ (a teensy lie she could live with) Brienne headed up to shower and once more search the internet for articles on treating emotional trauma survivors.She’d ended every night the same since he arrived, trying to absorb how to be empathetic (okay maybe she’d developed _that_ already), how to survey all his unmarked boundaries and lead Jaime to open up on his own terms.

The knock was a relief, she was tired of waiting. Tired of tip-toeing around each other with incomplete revelations and near-misses. He looked so lost propped against her doorframe, limp and fidgety, unable to meet her eyes. Longing dripped from him, for comfort or just closure, Brienne wasn’t sure. When she asked him to talk he melted to the floor, relief exiting his parted lips like release.

It felt too personal to invite him in, not just yet.So they sat side by side on the small landing, with crisp stars in the cloudless sky, waves glowing under a waxing moon.His thigh was hot and restless against hers, she tried not to notice.

Jaime glossed over the accident, his injury. They had covered that ground before.He told her of his addiction, how the pain medication made him feel good, forget all he had lost. How he started drinking again for the same effect. His voice faltered as he talked of Tyrion, of putting his little brother in harm’s way to satisfy his cravings, how much it hurt when he cut Jaime off. “I know it was the _only_ power he had left: Stop the flow of money.And he thought it would slow me down, curb my use.It wasn’t the funds I missed, it was _him._ I filled his spot with Cersei, which was _…so fucking stupid._ ”

“And that night?” Brienne prompted, and Jaime paled in the moonlight, a specter in the reflection off the sea. She reached for his hand, clutched it in her lap as he told her of his withdrawal, his pain. When he said Cersei suggested a friend he paused, waiting for her reaction. She nodded encouragement, sliding her thumb back and forth in timid strokes. Her other hand smoothed his knuckles, trailing up his forearm and coaxing the story from him.

Jaime watched her movements, his hand enveloped in her big, coarse caress, covered with touches unfathomably gentle. With a dead voice he spoke of shooting up, of the payment the woman expected and that he so readily offered. He was shaking now, a fine quiver of muscles that reached his fingertips, flowed through his leg and shoulder into Brienne. Soundlessly she released his hand and wrapped both arms around his chest, wringing a grunt of surrender from deep in his throat as he settled against her. She pressed a cheek to his shoulder, gripped him against her until the tremor faded. “Keep going.” Shivering as her breath brushed along his ear.

“I called your name.” Pressing his mouth into her hair, voice reduced to a whisper on the breeze.“When we were…when _I was_.” Sobbing now, gasping, the wet words soaked her scalp, her cheek. Brienne _needed_ him closer. She so desperately needed to show him it was alright, _they_ would be alright. With a final tug she hoisted him against her ugly girth, wielding all that unwomanly strength to drag him into her lap. Jaime came without a fight, turning into her embrace as his knee slipped over and between her own, as his chest fell flush with hers. Cupping a long hand behind his head she coaxed him to her collarbone. He nosed at her skin, sighing contentedly.

_“Go on.”_ Brienne threaded fingers through his hair, swirled little circles against his back, her touch insistent.

“I called her _‘Brienne’_ …over and over as I, _as we…_ ” Brienne nodded with enough force that he could feel it, not trusting her voice.“I _dirtied_ you Brienne, I ruined it for us.”

“No.” Placing all the force she could muster in one word, she gave him a shake for emphasis.“No, you didn’t. I’m the same person Jaime, it had no effect on me. The stain of that night was smeared on you…not me.” He started shaking again, it took her a moment to realize it was a chuckle.

“You sound like Davos.” The panic remained, mirth doing little to hide barely contained hysteria. He was fragile. Brittle and cracking, and Brienne felt the weight of holding him together, as if Jaime could crumble away.

“I’ll take it back.” She steadied her voice, sounding strong and sure when he couldn’t. Jaime lifted his head, evergreen eyes frantic in the silver light. “The name… _my name_. For every _‘Brienne’_ you gifted her, I expect one in replacement. Every touch granted in my name I want returned. Do you understand me?” 

His face shifted and… _fuck he’s beautiful._ The memory so close she ached: her luminous boy in the passenger seat, a few new lines that looked wise, well-weathered. Brienne watched hope replace fear, panic evaporating into the sea breeze. “You’d do that for me?” _Like she had a choice, like she could deny him anything._

“I won’t let the actions of some random bitch determine what I think of you…what you think of _yourself_.”He laughed at a that, a true laugh that shook through them both. “We’re going to make new memories Jaime, really good ones.”

Carefully he slid both arms around her, squeezing back until it was hard for either of them to inhale. “Starting with this?” His face smushed against her neck, sticky and hot.

“Starting with this one.” Brienne kissed his temple, settled into the embrace as the surf rumbled and they finally breathed in time.

**< ><><><><><>**

It was a long night. A _long_ contemplative night, fitful in a fevered way, his brain boggy with scenarios that involved pounding back up the stairs to her apartment, opening the door and _-and…_

_That’s when it became interesting._

Interesting and frustrating and fucking mind-boggling the catalogue of things that he desperately wanted to _do_ with Brienne. Things he imaged so vividly that he woke sweat-soaked and confused, fumbling around in the dark with a hard dick and a frantic need to find her in his empty, twisted sheets.He was fifteen all over, horny and overwhelmed, full of swallowed words and unnamed feelings.In the end all he could do was laugh. Laugh at his tented boxers and his slick palms and his needy, gripping lust. Because he _wanted_ again, allowed himself to feel and name it for what it was, and wasn’t that fucking amazing.

Sunlight off the water eventually burned through his eyelids, chasing away the short offering of early morning sleep, most of the night spent restless and yearning. Jaime made the trek to breakfast, a new purpose in his steps driving him across the graveled lot to the kitchen _(take that Davos, you old fart)_. The screen door that stood like a battlement blocking his ascent gave way with the slightest tug, clattering against the cottage siding.

Brienne lounged against the stove, fragile in the morning light, a spatula in one hand, mug in the other.She pivoted at the sound of the door, eyes and lips widening with a liquid slide that made him consider running back to his cabin and avoid embarrassing himself completely. “Do you want eggs?” The words took a moment to register, another spent finding the source of the snicker across the room.

“Brienne has two food groups…eggs and pancakes.” Theon sat at the table, a relaxed smile on his face. He glanced toward Jaime with a look that registered as genuine happiness to see him, it was unnerving.

“That’s a lie. There’s the smoothie group and the toast group.” Brienne reached for two plates, placed an egg on each, slid one in front of Theon before setting a place for Jaime at the table. She turned back to the counter. “I make a mean blueberry-kale smoothie.”Theon groaned dramatically in reply.

They continued that way, an easy banter, an unburdened quiet. No one rushing to talk or impress, no pressure to get going quickly or do _anything_ in this moment other that be here _—together._

Brienne stood first, placing her dishes in the sink and gifting him a quiet “Hope I’ll see you later.” Passing behind Theon she brushed a hand across his shoulders and leaned down to murmur “Back in a bit…hold the fort.” The other man smiled a little too fondly, trailed his fingers along her wrist as she walked by.He had never considered himself a jealous man, not before Theon, but his response to Brienne was a knife in the gut, unfamiliar and uniquely uncomfortable. Jaime swallowed a snarl as Theon watched the door slam, eyes drifting back to his plate with a tiny, pleased hum.

“She puts a lot of faith in you.” Jaime heard the irritation in his own voice, tried to temper it.He still liked Theon, in theory at least. The other man’s constant presence, his solid participation in Brienne’s life, made Jaime nuts.

“I try hard to never let her down.” It was delivered softly, the point sharp nonetheless. _Unlike you_ rang in Jaime’s head. “Brienne is easy to work with, easy to get along with.” Theon looked up, ageless despite the tanned crinkles from long days in the sun, his eyes bright. “When I couldn’t surf anymore, not at a pro level…I felt lost. Brienne gave me purpose.” 

Jaime fought to still his features, cover the anguish as his lungs emptied with a startled whoosh. _She could have been my purpose._ He knew it.Had known it the morning she showed up at _his_ beach like an olive branch from the gods. His chance at a good thing _—finally—_ after a shitty childhood and a rather unfulfilling go at being an adult, and he’d squandered it for so long. 

Jaime accepted his cynical view of the world, understood that he floated in a bubble of self-loathing until it permeated his every thought. It didn’t make those thoughts inherently wrong, truth could hide in his skewed outlook. Theon and Brienne seemed _so compatible_ , blissfully relaxed in each other’s company. She had real feelings for Theon—something safe, _something decent—_ unpolluted by disappointment and heartbreak.And maybe _-just maybe_ that was better, maybe it was what she needed. Squaring his shoulders, he took a steadying breath. “Brienne seems…content.”If content was just that—and not _hopelessly, passionately_ in love—who was he to judge. _I’m the coward who ran away._

Theon met his gaze, eyes narrowed in question for long moments. On a breath like a breeze the tension took flight, he exhaled an “oh…” trailed by a low chuckle.“Take a ride with me J-man?” Jaime felt fifty years older hearing the nickname. That was another person, another lifetime. _Not me._

His old friend’s face was earnest, open and child-like. Jaime followed him to the beat up Volkswagen, sat with windows open and salt air gusting as Theon navigated a hillside road, parking on a flat overlook with a straight drop to the sea.He sat on the hood, Jaime followed.“I would follow her to the beach…just to watch. She’s so damn beautiful on a board.” Theon shook his head, sadness catching on the wind like sand. “She always quit when she saw me watching.I found this spot where she wouldn’t notice my stalking.”

Far below a lone surfer was shredding the waves, quick and tight. Flashes of pale hair, silver in the sun.A long, lean frame. “Brienne…” Jaime groaned her name, the sound suffused with longing. Unthinking he stood, took two steps toward the edge of the cliff.

“Don’t jump.” Theon rumbled behind him, breaking the spell. “Tyrion and I didn’t go to all this trouble getting your sorry ass here only to watch you fling yourself on the rocks for her. There’s devoted…and then there’s stupid.” 

He turned to see Theon grin, his face split wide with a mix of mischief and joy. “I believe you have the wrong idea about Brienne and me.” Patting the hood beside him, he encouraged Jaime to sit back down.

“You _kissed_ her…” He knew what he saw, had played the scene in a repeating loop more times than he wanted to admit: Theon tangling his fingers in her hair, brushing his lips against the corner of Brienne’s mouth. Her pleased huff of air as he pulled away whispering “ _I could do better._ ” The rumbling laugh as she stroked his chin.“You said you loved her…and sh-she said it back.” Remembering made his chest ache.

“I _do_ love Brienne, and she loves me…but not _love-_ love.” Theon rubbed a hand across his eyes, leaned on his elbows. “I like Brienne… _a lot_ , always have. When I moved here I asked her out.” His words carried a sorrow that Jaime found all too familiar. “We held hands a few times…I kissed her.” Regret hardening into something else as he met Jaime’s understanding gaze. “It wasn’t awful, it just wasn’t…” _Theon wanted more._ The disappointment lingered in his still face. Theon wanted…and Brienne, _Brienne didn’t._

Jaime suddenly felt intrusive, this wasn’t his story to hear. “Theon, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”

“ _Fuck_ Lannister…I started this conversation.” Like a valve released the awkwardness dissipated, replaced by the casual contentment Jaime expected from his friend. “Anyway, _now_ we joke about it.I keep telling her that I could have kissed her better somehow but…we both know it’s a lie.” Theon’s eyes darted to Brienne, gliding between the crests. “I was never the one.”

Jaime followed his gaze.She was still breathtaking, still _magical_ dancing across the waves. “Brienne doesn’t need someone like me, I’ve done horrible things. She’s too good…”

“Never thought you were a coward.” The threat blatant in his low growl. Theon’s lip curled, mean and unexpected. “I’m sitting here…telling you that she wants _you_. After all these years, in spite of the crap you’ve pulled.” He stood, pointed a finger in Jaime’s face. “You could at least have the balls to love her back.”

“Theon…I…” Jaime’s mouth went dry, caught in the quiet whirlpool of emotion he had drifted into.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll drive you to the airport right now.” Running fingers through his hair, he gave a huffing laugh. “ _Shit_ …I might actually have a chance if you leave her again.” His voice rose, desperation in the sound.

A better man might walk away, leave her to be pieced together in Theon’s kind embrace.This man would love her, _worship her._ Jaime recognized the want in his face, it matched his own.But she had held him _—so fierce, so brave—_ held him and traded new promises of memories unmade. _I’m a selfish man after all._

“I’ll stay.” He whispered the words, a bargain struck between gentlemen. “I won’t ever hurt her like that again.” It was a plea for the other man’s trust, his forgiveness.

“If you do…I’ll kill you and sink the body.” Jaime laughed, _he might_. There was strange comfort in that. 

“She should compete.” Theon pointed at the spray, a hitch in his breath as Brienne drifted over the crest in a beautiful arc. “She thinks it would disrespect her brother’s memory to return to the sport that drowned him. I think hiding on this island is disrespectful to whichever god gave her the power to fly.”

“I’ll try to convince her to re-join the tour, no guarantee.” Brienne would decide alone, Jaime wouldn’t coax her.

“And this conversation _never_ happened.” Theon locked him in a frighteningly serious stare, shocking Jaime once again.Loyalty and protectiveness stirring Jaime’s similar sentiments.

“No. It didn’t.” Beneath them Brienne wiped out in a spectacular splash, smacking the water and bouncing onto the board with renewed energy. Jaime could picture her frustrated smile.

Shared appreciation settled between them as they watched her cut through the crashing face, an unwitting show of graceful power. Theon broke the silence, punching Jaime’s shoulder. “Let’s get fish tacos.” He was moving before Jaime had time to react, turning over the old engine. “I can give you advice on your soon-to-exist love life.”

“No thanks.” He grimaced.

“ _Come on_ J-man, I did you a solid.Let me live vicariously.” Theon grinned, more like the boy Jaime knew than the man he respected more with each passing day.

Jaime shook his head. If he was ever lucky enough to _have_ a love life with Brienne, there was no way in the seven hells he would share a minute of it with anyone.“ _Don’t_ call me J-man…”

“…it makes you sound old.” Theon laughed, whipping around the turns. “You _are_ old Jaime.We both are.”

**< ><><><><><>**

“We doing this?” Brienne waited with a board under each arm, feet digging nervous trenches in the sand just beyond his little stoop. She sparkled in the late morning sun, a mountain of freckles and pale skin calling to him like a mirage.

“Is that really a single rider board?” He motioned to the enormous stretch of fiberglass propped against her leg.

“We’re looking for stability here Lannister.”She patted the monstrosity like a favorite pet. “I’m not expecting you to drop into the chute and carve it up on day one. Just mount a nice big wave and ride her to shore.”Jaime nearly swallowed his tongue, fixing his eyes on a spot over her shoulder to hide the flare of heat.

“Do you call all waves _‘her’_?” Gathering his wits enough to focus, he found Brienne grinning, biting her lip to contain the laugh that hovered just inside her teeth. Those damnable eyes lit from within, the crackle of playful fire beneath pale lashes.

“Only the nice ones.” It bubbled out now, the laughter that lingered in her throat chiming across the dunes. Jaime stumbled in the direction of the sound. Charmed at last.

“I see _your_ choice is understated.” He nodded at the slick, maneuverable board tucked under her arm, noting with pride that it was one he helped design. “Not a lot to work with Tarth.” He raised an eyebrow, daring her to duel.

“It’s all in how you ride it…” The words rumbled from her throat, gritty and deep. “…and I’m an _excellent_ rider.” Brienne had never…not once… _never-ever-ever_ attempted sexy before, and if this was a first try— _seven hells._ It was intoxicating.

Jaime thrilled at the challenge, leaning close to brush a stray hair from her eyes.“Oh I know…you’re magnificent.” Covering his hand with hers, she stroked his fingers and closed her eyes. One moment of vulnerability, a moment of honest longing that passed silently across her careful face before bleaching away in the sun.

“Try to keep up.” She reached down and picked up both boards, turning resolutely toward the breakers. Jaime tagged behind, giddily bewildered.

_Surfing with one hand is a bitch._

Paddling resembled clubbing, beating the water with his blunt stump, frantically heading nowhere. His poor good arm was exhausted by the second attempt.Popping to a stand was hindered by his handless arm slipping out from under him, he bounced on his face at least twice, chin burning with the sting of a fresh scrape.

Through it all Brienne floated beside him, yelling encouragement and smothering any rogue chuckles at his expense. An hour passed without one successful run, Jaime’s frustration was rising. An empty panicked feeling gnawing at his soul. _What if I can’t?_

Busy stewing in his own misery, Jaime didn’t notice Brienne paddling to shore until she was wading back in his direction, board stowed safely on the beach. She moved through the breakers with such ease, jealousy and admiration flooding his chest as she attacked the waves then swam to meet him. Wordlessly she patted his lower back, Jaime scooted forward as Brienne hoisted herself up in one fluid movement.

“You’ve got this.” She grabbed him around the waist, pressing her forehead to his shoulder and digging the words into his skin. “Do you hear me Jaime Lannister? _You’ve got this._ ” He nodded, relief at her touch warring with the hopelessness he felt.

“I can’t get my feet under me.” He whispered the confession and Brienne nodded, encouraging him with her hands to kneel, folding her body over his.The roll of her shoulders igniting little sparks of excitement as she cut through the water, powering them into position. Moving the giant board with ease, as if it weighed nothing, as if he weighed nothing.

When the nose started to rise she hauled him upright, grunting and grabbing his ass as she forced him to his feet.Jaime laughed at her boldness, kept laughing as she adhered her chest to his back, hips cupping his backside, matching his pose exactly.Joined they teetered and fell, crashing into the shoot and curling left along the shoulder. Jaime screamed. Joy like pain ripped from his throat as he clutched her outstretched fingers, lifting his head into the spray.

The ride was short, not much to speak of really, a few slices up and down the churning face and it was over. A shadow of his former ability. Rumbling to a stop in the shallows, Jaime rolled off the board, snatching Brienne close and folding her in his arms. No words for what she had done.

“Brienne…oh, _oh…gods_ Brienne.” Her name, over and over, a cleansing in the repetition. She stroked his hair, held him until his breathing quieted and the quiver left his arms. He gripped her hand through the breakers and soft sand, Brienne dragging the huge board behind.

Reaching shore he let go, nodded in the direction of her board lying abandoned. “Show me something beautiful.” Brienne beamed, full lips bursting into a girlish smile as she grabbed it and trotted back into the surf.

**< ><><><><><>**

“Here.” Brienne indicated a pair of dilapidated wooden racks shoved against the back wall of the garage, and Jaime dropped his board in.

“Let me…” He reached out and took the second one from her hands, balancing it on his stump before slotting it into an opening beside the first.

“You did well.” She was standing beside him, broad hands curling deliberately around equally broad hips, and Jaime was comforted by the familiarity of it. His blood thrummed with her proximity, prickling with awareness at how the racks formed a darkened niche in the already shadowed structure. “You found your balance in the end.”

“Maybe…” Jaime grumbled the word. It was still too little, too slow. He ached to recapture _that_ feeling…of water slipping by as his heart pumped in time, his whole existence flowing together in liquid completion.

Brienne moved closer, wedging herself between Jaime and the wall, drawing him into their make-believe alcove. “Jaime…” Lightening through storm clouds, concern snapped in her dark eyes. “…you are doing so well, don’t be impatient.”

“Me…impatient?” He took a hurried step backward to escape the pull of her nearness. _Those fucking eyes._ They were too much, could suck him in and make him act without thought.Hastily colliding with the rack of boards, he sent it tipping into his shoulder. Stumbling forward under the weight of it until he crashed against Brienne.Pinning her to the wall with an arm braced on either side of her head.

Brienne grunted with the contact, and Jaime’s brain shorted out at the sound. So similar…way- _way too_ similar to the noise she made as she jerked him upright, fingers digging into muscle, skin bruising beneath her brutal grip. An echo of the heavy press of her body sending his mind reeling and flooding him with want. Lightheaded he leaned in, mouth and nose finding the hollow of her shoulder. He sucked at it, gulped the heat of her quickening pulse as it radiated outward, fluttering against his lips. _Only an inch…one gods forsaken inch._ If he shifted forward…just the tiniest fraction…he could nuzzle against her, lick the sweat from her jaw _._ Nip and pinch and tug at the soft flesh until she sighed his name. Until she knew… _really knew_ what he craved.

_“Jaime…”_ Brienne’s voice trembled, she worked a hand between them, wiggled it up his chest, his neck, until her fingers rested across his mouth, barring the contact. “…don’t.”

The discomfort in her voice settled his lust like a cool rain. Releasing her tenderly, Jaime backed away, penned by the boards in an attempt to flee.Brienne moved quickly, covering his lips once more, cupping his neck with the other hand as she tugged him close. “I’m afraid.” She breathed it into his ear, shaky and questioning.

Jaime relaxed in her embrace, closed his eyes as she spoke her peace. “I was so young when I met you.” Brienne shook, words tapping against his skin in time with her trembling. “I don’t remember _not_ wanting you. One day I was a child and the next…” She pressed closer, her warm exhale shifting the hairs at his nape. “Desire for you is part of me, deep as my bones.”

Closing the distance with a whimper, her mouth slipped along his neck, tracing the groove of his pulse. Brienne drew the salt and seawater from him, the tip of her tongue raking a path as she moaned deep and rough.He surrendered to her control, denying his own need. If this was the price for her touch he’d gladly pay it.Lips parted, panting against her hand as he let her have her way. Whatever she required, he was hers.

“If I let you love me and you leave again…I’ll break.” Mouthing at his earlobe, the words resonated in his head “…smash into a million pieces and never be whole.”

Jaime leaned against the rough walls, covering her body with his. Cinder blocks digging gashes in his arms as he fought against holding her. Every muscle poised to squeeze her tight, promise _anything_ , as long as she stopped bleeding fear against his skin.“I promise…Brienne _oh gods_ Brienne I promise _…on the Maiden, on the Mother…_ I’ll stay, _I’ll stay…_ ”

Breinne released his neck, leaving the spot cold and bare. Tipping forward until only her hand separated them, her breath in his eyes, a hot flutter of lashes. She searched his stare, drowning him in deep blue seas, the splatter of freckles and start of lines that weren’t there before. He guessed some of them were his.

“You made promises before and I believed you...and we’ve made promises again…” Touching her forehead to his, sadness and wonder at odds in her remarkable eyes. “…I guess I’ll always believe you.” She dropped her hand away, roughly covering his mouth with hers.

Jaime gasped, falling into her. The sudden taste and smell of Brienne overpowering him, fogging his mind to anything but the feel of her lips yielding and the slide of his tongue finding her heat at last. She _keened_ —a muffled sound he swallowed down, tipping her head as she opened for him fully. He longed to bellow his grateful deliverance. Brienne _…his Brienne_ was beneath him, supple and wet, flat to a wall with her rugged arms dragging him in. As close as her strong body could manage, as close as two people could be without taking her.

The evidence of his desire wasn’t subtle. He chuckled in his chest at the remembrance _(“that’s…not subtle”),_ but Brienne didn’t shy away. She welcomed his hard lines, his firm attention, her toned body surrounding him, molding to his. This was the memory that lifted and tormented him, the loss of promise that filled his fevered dreams, of a girl in the waves and the way she fit him _just so_ before he tossed her away with his weakness.

Jaime tightened his hold, branding her with the sorrow his stupidity had bought, how deeply he regretted it every day since. Brienne clung on with fierce longing, and he chased every whimper and groan, catching them in his mouth. Their tongues set a rhythm, a mating call that his body yearned to answer, losing more skin from his elbows with each frantic shift.

After long, frenzied moments her hands slid to his chest, pushing him away with gentleness that he probably didn’t deserve, her perfect pink lips slick and swollen. “Now you know.” Turning her head to hide her gaze. The hunched, quiet girl at the front of the queue surfacing in the aftermath.

Jaime inched back into her embrace. Unable to stomach the sudden withdrawal, soothing her anguished embarrassment with quiet kisses dusted along her hairline. “Tell me duck…where _did_ you learn to kiss like that?” He pressed his luck.

Brienne raised her brow, jaw tightening in familiar challenge _There you are._ His pulse hummed in reply. “Who says I have ever kissed _anyone_ like that Jaime Lannister? It’s an isolated affliction…your presence alone perverting my actions, twisting my head all around until I do that _—that…_ ” She waved her hand in mortified frustration.

“Are you referring to the kiss?” Pressing his lips to hers once more for emphasis, voice dropping to a barely-there breath. “Or the dry humping against a storage shed wall?”

_“Fucking hells!”_ She damn near head butted him, rearing back before pounding both palms against his shoulders. Jaime locked his knees, rode out the typhoon until she cracked apart in embarrassed chuckles. “Oh gods _…we really did,_ didn’t we?”

“Afraid so duck.” He planted a quick peck on her lips, leaned back to stare into her wide, clear eyes. “I’m not leaving…” With a flurry of quick kisses swearing another oath against her lips. “…not until you kick me out.”

Brienne grinned and shoved off, slipped cat-like beneath his arm leaving Jaime buried under a pile of boards and the tipping rack. “Keep talking and it could happen.” It was a lie they shared with glee. The certainty of her affection like a salve over all the lingering hurt. Winking over her shoulder, Brienne escaped into the sunlight.

Jaime glanced down, assessed the situation with a snort. He would take his sweet time rearranging _all_ the boards… _twice…_ anything to avoid facing his brother…or Selwyn…or Theon.

_Shit. I’m surrounded._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a particularly rough chapter for me. Thanks to Madelyn and Meriwyn for their patience. There may be longer delays as I need to focus on my exchange story for awhile. 
> 
> I love hearing from everyone, comments keep me going. Thank you again for reading.


	11. This Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It was damn well _my_ intention!” Tyrion huffed, set out to grab another drink as he yelled from inside. “Tarth is beautiful, but there’s plenty of sand and water at the Rock.” He plopped back down in his chair with a grunt. “Although nothing as astonishingly _blue._ ” Jaime flushed and Tyrion laughed at his discomfort, both going quiet for long moments. “Have you slept with her?” 
> 
> “No.” He didn’t elaborate.
> 
> “ _Can_ you sleep with her? I’m assuming you want to.” For once there was no teasing in his voice, only care.

“Your ovaries aching?” Tyrion’s smirk was obnoxious, he took a bottled water and a beer from the small fridge in his cabin and joined Jaime on the stoop, handing him the water as he sat. The mid afternoon sun was still scorching as the tide started rolling in. “I figured you didn’t want…” nodding in the direction of his own drink as he popped the top.

“Still sober.” Jaime let his pleased smile show, he’d learned to accept comments on his continued sobriety as complements, even from Tyrion. “And my ovaries are a little peaked this afternoon, thanks for noticing.”

Tyrion let out a whooping guffaw, lifting his drink in toast. Jaime clunked it with his plastic bottle and took a long swig.“Gods, why _was_ Brienne chasing a brood of brats all afternoon anyway, not that I minded. Have you noticed her legs?”

“Piss off.” Jaime wasn’t truly offended, the only interest Tyrion had ever taken in Brienne centered on his happiness, he should have listened to him from the start. “Their moms had a surf lesson with Theon. In theory, Brienne was holding a surf session of her own.”

“Herding cats you mean. _Come on,_ the youngest one must not have been more than six, did they really think he could surf?” He was still grinning at Jaime’s obvious discomfort over the topic.

“He’s five.” Jaime had been watching with amusement when the strawberry blond took off for the waves behind Brienne’s back. He chased the escape artist down and spent the next hour jumping in the surf and taking the boy on piggyback rides;that he felt comfortable enough in his own body to allow it was a miracle he still hadn’t wrapped his head around.“I don’t think his parents expected much, they just wanted a little time to themselves. Can’t say I blame them, four kids is a lot.”

The women had the haggard look of people who hadn’t really taken much time for themselves in years. Theon caught on quickly,every day delivered a new lesson on how keen the man’s intuition was and how thoroughly Jaime had underestimated him from the start. He taught the couple basic moves and paddled out far enough that they could laze around in the swells for the scheduled two hour session, keeping an eye out for their safety at a distance. Brienne accepted her role as babysitter/lifeguard and was doing exceptionally well all things considered, until the youngest one tired of climbing on and off a board and made a break for it.She startled as Jaime sprinted from his cabin and chased the little ginger down near the shoreline, then stared at the tiny hand in his so intently that he had trouble speaking.

“Were two of them twins?” Tyrion raised his brows, the implications of the question poorly disguised.

“ _Yeesss_ Tyrion, they were twins you know-it-all fuck. Yes, _gods yes…_ I spent the afternoon ogling Brienne as she taught surfing to twins, boy and girl, and yes _-yes dammit_ I did imagine what it might be like to…” He covered his face with his hand, heaved a frustrated sigh as he stared at the crashing waves.

“To teach your own children how to surf…with _her._ ” Tyrion patted his knee, emptied his bottle before adding: “See, that wasn’t so bad. Confession is a balm for the soul.”

“You do a lot of confessing huh?” They both laughed at that, Tyrion certainly had more than his share of sins to unburden.

“Oh no, I’m soulless. It makes lechery much more palatable.” Tyrion was doing his usual trick, making light of a moment that threatened to turn tender. Jaime decided not to allow it.

“Tell that to someone you’ve not saved.” He cupped a hand behind his little brother’s head, fingered the light brown curls.

“Shit, you’ve turned maudlin. It must be time for me to leave.” He looked up at Jaime with questioning eyes, still too clever. “It _is_ time for me to leave you, isn’t it?” Jaime could see the sadness that threatened at the edges of his gaze.

“Tyrion, it was never my intention, I really didn’t know if…” Jaime scrambled to explain, but was cut off.

“It was damn well _my_ intention!” Tyrion huffed, set out to grab another drink as he yelled from inside. “Tarth is beautiful, but there’s plenty of sand and water at the Rock.” He plopped back down in his chair with a grunt. “Although nothing as astonishingly _blue._ ” Jaime flushed and Tyrion laughed at his discomfort, both going quiet for long moments. “Have you slept with her?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate.

“ _Can_ you sleep with her? I’m assuming you want to.” For once there was no teasing in his voice, only care.

“I _think_ I could…given the opportunity. Davos has done an amazing job rearranging my bucket of marbles. I’m still guilt-ridden with a large dose of self-loathing and general unworthiness, but _better._ You can touch me now. _”_ He held out his stump. _Tyrion’s intentions are good._ Jaime didn’t flinch as he squeezed right over the scar, both men grinned at the sight. 

“Jaime, that’s wonderful.” His brother’s eyes shined more than usual, he blinked it away.

_“_ If I wanted any other woman I’d have no problem. _”_ Jaime paused, unsure how to continue. “She and Theon, they never… _shit._ She’s a virgin Tyrion, Brienne hasn’t told me outright but I know.”

“Is that really a shock?” Tyrion’s eyes burned into his, forcing the truth. “That girl was in love with you then, she’s in love with you now. Brienne is much too faithful to fuck someone else _—ever._ Time to man up Lannister, have you told her?”

Jaime knew what he was asking, it always came back to that. “Yes.” The memory of Brienne holding him beneath the stars too precious to share. “She forgave me, said we’d make better memories to replace that one.”

“Why, _exactly,_ haven’t you married her yet? The sex part you can work around, there’s toys for that. She’s your match Jaime.” Tyrion reached across and threaded their fingers, holding hands for the first time since they were kids together in a big, cold house.

“I’m not good enough for her.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’ve done nasty things, ones she would never dream of doing.”

“Yes, you have.”

“She’s young, unblemished. I’m too old for her.” Tyrion snorted at that one.

“Yes, you’re ancient.” He looked at Jaime like the dense ass he was sometimes. “ _Someone_ needs to know what they’re doing. _”_

“I don’t want to live without her again, I won’t leave.” Jaime sighed, he was breaking his brother’s heart, just a little.

“I knew this was a one way trip for you when I planned it.” He squeezed Jaime’s hand, gave him a bittersweet smile. “Just be happy, okay?”

“I love you.” Jaime hadn’t said it enough, or maybe it was Davos’ fault.

“Gods, are we doing _this_? I’m not even drunk.” Tyrion jumped up, stood with arms extended, laughing as Jaime bent to meet his embrace. “Love you too…needy fucker that you are.” With gentle eyes Tyrion patted his cheek, headed back to his chair. “Just remember, we own a jet. I can leave work at closing and still make dinner.”

“Consider this your standing invitation. Brienne likes red wine, at least she _used_ to…” He glimpsed a memory of sunshine through a golden tent, stretched out on the sand by his glowing girl as they chatted about nothing in particular. “It makes her turn pink _…more_ pink.” Jaime smiled at his brother like a smitten boy.

“Then we have a deal.”

**< ><><><><><>**

_Breathe. Just. Breathe._

Brienne stretched out on her stomach, willed her unruly heart to match the languid lift and fall of the paddle board beneath her. _All those words. All those feelings._ He’d given them so freely, opened a vein and let his hurt pool at her feet like an offering. How could she fortress her emotions against the flood of his honesty? She’d lost her bearings, crashed in his arms with a tumble of limbs and lust. Brienne couldn’t pretend he was the one who kissed her, couldn’t laugh it off as something that she hadn’t wanted, _craved._

“I’m so screwed Galladon.” Brienne flicked a wrist in the water, wet her scorching skin. She’d run away as soon as the lesson with the kids ended, grabbed a board and hauled ass down the beach. The sight of Jaime splashing in the waves with an unruly toddler too much for her poor heart to bear.

“I was right, I never knew him.” She grinned into the board, the rough grain of the grip like a lover’s cheek. “Or maybe _I did_ , but he’s not the same. The accident stripped away his arrogance, _most_ of it anyway. There was…an abundance.” She barked a laugh into the sunlight, let it rattle her bones. “Something fragile grew in its place, something rare.” Running a finger over her lips, she felt the ghost of Jaime’s mouth. Closing her eyes, she tried to shield herself from the burning memory of his face as he crossed the sand _to her_ , faced his fears _for her._

Kneeling _,_ she used both arms to scoop through the dark depths, dragging the board in the direction of the cabin. “He promised to stay, as long as I want him here _…_ he’ll stay.” She laid back and let the board coast along, lounging in the steam off the surface. 

“Everyone thinks I’m the reckless one: _big brave_ Brienne, born with salt water in her veins…but _you know me—_ know better.” She stared at the sky, imagined his brilliant blue eyes peeking out from behind a cloud, rumbling with laughter like a storm cutting through the heat. “I started surfing to be _with you._ I convinced myself that I loved the competition, but it was always you. _You_ wanted it…wanted with such quiet desperation, and I thought that somehow, tha-that I could make the path easier, drag you in my wake and we would be together, a-and when that didn’t happen…there was Jaime.” It settled over her like a warm blanket, the calm of admitting his importance, of releasing her failures to the brother she still loved with crippling ferocity. “I let him replace you at my side, in my thoughts. He was a brother to me Galladon, and then he was _more._ Losing you both broke me.”

She stood and paddled in silence, letting the story of their friendship wash over her. Remembering each day spent in Jaime’s sunlight, every glorious run as he shot through the curl with inhuman grace, as he flew with wings that only the gods could see; his biting words and his furious protectiveness and the simmering heat that built between them as the weeks passed.

“I can’t let him go, not _this_ Jaime.” Brienne shook her head in denial, whispered an admission to the sea. “The way he looks at me Galladon, the way he _touches_ me. I never thought…” She sighed, it fractured with want.

“Y _eah-yeah-yeah,_ save the sexy shit for someone else, right? I figure since you’ve shuffled off the mortal coil you won’t mind hearing about mine, because my coil…well it’s stretched. _Tight._ ” Brienne snorted, sat cross legged and let the board bob and dip through the crests.

After a few moments the cabins came into view, Jaime sat with Tyrion on the stoop overlooking the beach. They were laughing, his hair gilded in the fading rays as he clapped with joy. “So beautiful…” Her voice shocked her, low and rough. Jaime fingered his little brother’s curls with breathtaking tenderness.

“I want him Galladon, all of him.” Tyrion moved in front of Jaime, wrapped small arms around his brother’s neck in a tight embrace. “He’s still frustrating…stubborn and confrontational and questioning, but there’s _so much love_ in him, and I-I think he might—he wants to give it to _me._ How is that possible?”

Brienne stood once more, paddled with powerful strokes, closing the distance to home. The brothers were side by side, animatedly talking. She wondered if they were celebrating Jaime’s victories, deciding whether it was time to leave. The thought settled in her chest like a brick.

“I need your help Galladon. You’re always with me in the crash, in the waves and wind…but I need you in the quiet too. Help me be brave.”Tyrion moved inside and Jaime looked up, stared in her direction. With a pull that she felt like a cord around her waist he took long steps toward her, raised a hand in greeting.She waved back.

“I need to show him what we could be, a future worth fighting for.” He was waving again, grinning and jogging down the beach as she turned toward shore. “Gods help me Galladon, I need to _tell_ him—even if it all falls apart, even if he doesn’t feel the same— _can I do that?_ ”

She hopped off the board, dragged it through the tumbling roll as Jaime waded out to meet her. _I’m strong enough-I’m strong enough-I’m strong enough._ She repeated it over and over, hoping when the time came it would hold true.

**< ><><><><><>**

The _BOOM_ was loud and close, loud enough to make the screen door rattle against its frame. Jaime had cracked a window before settling beneath the covers, appreciating the shift in the breeze as it turned cool, blowing inland across gathering whitecaps. It filled his little room with the moist smell of salt and spray.His eyes snapped open to darkness, the first fat drops of rain slipping through the gap to spatter on the floor beside his bed.

There was no glow under the door of the tiny bathroom, no light when he flipped on the bedside lamp. The only illumination in the room cast by the sallow moon as it peeked between gathering clouds.Jaime wasn’t sure what set off the fretting, why his mind suddenly fixed on Brienne: whether she was okay, where exactly the lightning had struck, if it hit close to her cottage.Ever since their kiss…that wonderful, _unexpected_ kiss…the vacant expanse in his heart, long ago carved out _only for her,_ had grown wider.A huge gap filled with all the worry and longing trapped in the rest of his body, it flowed into it like a vacuum.

A moth to her heat, he found himself tugging on sweatpants and shuffling into the night, the wind picking up with each step he took toward her dark apartment. Power was out to all of the cabins and the main house, no lights visible for miles. Even the stars were uncommonly dull, hidden by the storm front rapidly rolling in.

He took the stairs to her landing in pairs, arriving breathless and clueless at her door, knocking before he lost his courage. In the quiet he could hear the rumble of thunder as it built over the waves, the creaking of her floorboards and the pad of feet just before she grasped the doorknob and tentatively looked out.

“Jaime…is everything okay?” He felt like falling forward, tripping over her entrance and appealing to her mercy. How was he to explain that the dam of his emotions was leaking at every seam, that with the scab of his guilt torn loose the ache he felt for her was a powerful thing, alive and consuming him?

“I…I’m not sure.” He ran long fingers through damp locks, kept his toes decidedly outside the barrier of her doorframe. “I was worried about you…with the lightning. I needed to know you were safe.”

Brienne stood perfectly still, hands open at her sides and lips pulled up in gentle amusement. She wore loose cotton shorts that did nothing to conceal her luscious legs, a worn shirt stretched and slipping off one shoulder. Everything about her was welcoming, everything relaxed. Jaime leaned forward instinctively, feeling the invisible cord that bound him to her tighten with each calm rise and fall of Brienne’s chest. 

“You’re talking to a Stormlands girl…” She indicated over her shoulder at the lit candles scattered like a constellation in her apartment. “…a little rough weather can’t frighten me off.” Jaime shied away, caught for a moment in the memory of how closely he’d come to doing just that. _I almost lost her._ Brienne saw the cringe, reached out to catch his fingertips with hers.“Hey…I’m fine, are you?”

“You’re my safe space.” He blurted the words, struggling to explain this untamable need that seemed to be growing. Brienne’s brows met in a tiny tug, tipping her head to the side until loose waves brushed her jaw. “Davos used hypnosis to help me understand my memories. He told me to imagine a place where the world couldn’t hurt me. It was with you…every time. It’s always been you.” He frowned into the darkness, wondering if she understood how important that fact was to him, how it had shaped every interaction since they met. Jaime wondered what might have happened if he’d realized it sooner. 

“I’m a poor liar.” She gripped his fingers more tightly, pulled at his arm until he breached her entranceway. Jaime watched with held breath as she shut the door behind him, clicked the lock quietly into place. “ _This_ storm frightens me.” She touched his chest then hers, the crackle of energy between them having little to do with the charge in the clouds overhead, his hairs stood on end in anticipation. Taking a step forward, Brienne pinned him against the solid wood, slid an arm around his waist, his lone hand clutched almost painfully in hers. “I want you and I trust you…and the only terrors here are my barely contained longing and the doubts in my head, but I can be brave.”

“I would worship you, if you let me.” Jaime breathed the words against her temple. This close he couldn’t help but flatten his chest to hers, let her quickening breaths settle under his skin, the smell of her fill his throat until he found it hard to speak. “It’s been so long since I let anyone touch me like _-like that_ Brienne…and I’m not sure i- _if…_ ” He didn’t know how to explain it, something that didn’t make sense even in the confines of his mind; how the drug use and the sex left him rotten inside, that if he let her love him it would rub off, sully her soul. She brushed her lips against his jaw, Jaime groaned in reply. “…but without you I’m unsettled…frantic. I feel too much, not touching you is unbearable. _Please,_ I won’t dishonor you, I’ll keep you safe.”

She smiled against his skin, and he wondered again how she seemed so relaxed, gripping his hand and sighing as she backed away. Brienne was the calm and he was the surge, neither existing in isolation as he rolled behind her through the unlit apartment. With an ease that shook him she climbed into bed, turned and opened her arms, whispering _“Show me.”_

Jaime scrambled to follow, crawling across cast aside blankets and sheets, covering her with his body. It was so dark, black and still as he settled on top of her. The peaks of her form illuminated by moonlight off the waves, its wan light carved into slits by the blinds at her window, she was silver where it touched. He had chastised himself more than once for seeing Brienne as something unattainable, no mere being of bone and skin;she had seemed so strong, so sturdy. When he learned of how she crumbled beneath the weight of disappointment and grief, he hated himself for abandoning the woman he adored in deference to the goddess of his imaginings.

They were both here tonight: the creature of sky and surf who laughed at the crash and challenged him in the spray and the girl who drifted beyond the break, warm and welcoming beneath him.Sinking into her embrace with a shudder, Jaime promised himself not to make the same mistakes twice. Brienne would leave this bed certain of his devotion, there would be no questioning looks come morning, no fear of tomorrow or the next day or the next.

Her eyes glistened in the darkness, inky pools swallowing the blue as he burrowed into her, deeper with each sigh of surrender. They were touching in too many places; hard nipples scraping his chest through her thin cotton shirt, the grind of his pelvis against hers as they struck dead on, long toes curling under the cuff of his sweatpants to stroke the bones of his ankle. For a moment it was too much, he was drowning in sensation until she anchored him with her voice. “ _Jaime…_ oh Jaime, it feels good _—you_ feel good…” And it did, and _she_ did. He huffed in relief, excising the ghost of other lovers from their room.

“Brienne _I need,_ let me…” but it was too much to say, to explain that his pleasure tonight would come from granting hers. Instead he covered her mouth with his, slid hand and stump beneath her shirt and lifted until both pale arms were stretched over her head and her firm breasts were bare beneath him. Jaime captured her wrists beneath his mangled arm, cupped and kneaded one small mound with his good hand as he took the other nipple in his mouth. Brienne _gasped,_ arched and keened beneath him as he weighed her down, holding her still with the press of arm and body.

Jaime pulled at the pebbled flesh with his teeth, alternating rough tugs with soft suckles, soothed her tender skin with feather-light licks and gentle breath before starting again. His fingers worked rhythmically at the other swollen peak, pinching and twisting in time with his tongue. Brienne grew frantic, moaning and bucking with such force that he struggled to hold on. “ _Fuck…_ Jaime fuck, it’s torture…let me- _oh gods,_ let me touch you…”. Her words were a groan and a plea, she shifted to squeeze him with her thighs, threatening to flip them both if he didn’t see reason.

“No duck. It’s your turn.” She snarled her displeasure and he chuckled against her skin, nipping hard until she yelped. “I promised to worship you, remember?”

“I _want_ to touch you.” Brienne leaned forward, pulling against his restraint until her lips met the crown of his head, she nuzzled the soft curls.

“Brienne, I’m not sure I can…”. He rested his head against her chest, listened to the heart galloping beneath her ribs. “Let me start with _this,_ let me remember how it feels to touch _with love._ I’ve apologized with words, _please…_ let me show you.” His last ugly fuck left a brand of shame that burned still, the years after spent lonely and wary of his own desires. Every day spent without her was a regret, every hurtful choice that drove Brienne away a poor one, she needed to understand.

She nodded, mumbled “ _Shit…_ you’re going to kill me…” before dropping her head back in submission.

“Come now lioness…” Jaime growled against her belly, kissing a path as he moved lower. “Your mate likes to play with his food.” He smacked playfully at her wrists as she started to lift them, pinched the skin over her hip in response to her groan of rebuttal.

“Gods, Lannisters and their silly lion- _nnns…fuck!”_ Jaime yanked down her sleep shorts with one fluid motion, diving forward to press his mouth between her thighs.

Brienne jolted, freezing with hands halfway to his head, apparently undecided whether to push him away or clasp him to her. He circled her clit with his tongue, light flicks that left her gasping with each rotation, easing his intrusion of her unmapped body. Slowly she tangled her fingers in his hair, blunt nails digging deeper into his scalp with each drawn-out movement of his head. The pain just enough to push him to the edge, he moaned against her slick folds and she trembled beneath him.

Jaime eased her apart, savored her slow relent to the pleasure as she stretched and lifted her hips, legs falling open around him. “I didn’t…” She started, the words cut off with whimpers and sighs. “…oh gods, that’s- _shit that’s_ … _oh Jaime, oh…_ ” Her body jerked to meet him, fingers twisting and tightening their hold. Jaime chuckled as Brienne’s want exploded around him, his shy woman suddenly writhing and moaning with abandon.

Lifting his head to grin at her, Brienne whined at the sudden withdrawal of his touch. Through the dim he saw her disbelief as she raised to meet his stare. Her hair stuck off in every direction, eyes locked on his with a mix of awe and embarrassment. “You look quite debauched Brienne.” He laughed the words behind her knee, stroking and pressing light kisses to the soft skin.

She hummed, a heavy sound that coursed through her body until he felt it in his fingertips. “You don’t look much better.” Jaime felt the moisture collected on his face, a landscape of wet drops caught in day old stubble, of sweat soaked hair smeared flat to his forehead. _He supposed he didn’t._

Time paused, Jaime’s heart opening to capture this finite moment. He tried to memorize it, every detail. Straining to see the precise shade of her hair in the moonlight, the steely glint of her amused, aroused eyes, the ripe, lust-bit lips. He stared at the landscape of her body: the silvered points of her breasts and the dip at the crux of her thighs and the sacred parts of her laid bare. The sight of her was beautiful, precious beyond belief. For the rest of his life he would return to this place— _this memory._ It would be the one that haunted him; his dirty dreams, his waking arousals, the want that called to him as he drifted off to sleep would find him here. Jaime grinned more broadly at the thought.

“Why are you smiling?” Brienne asked him warmly, her own smile wide enough to see the candlelight reflected on her too big teeth. He started to point that out, but thought better. She looked so relaxed, so happy.With trembling fingers she reached toward him, seeking the reassurance of his grip. “Jaime, I didn’t know…I never thought…” Her voice quivered and stopped, unable to finish.

“I can do better.” He winked and grabbed her thighs, hoisting them over his shoulders and lifting her backside off the mattress as Brienne screeched and giggled in turns, twisting back and forth in protest.

“ _Jaime!_ Jaime no! I’m heavy, my legs will crush you and _…ohhh gods._ ” He buried his face in her cunt with a smirk still lingering on his lips. This time there was no teasing to his actions, no slow build or begging entrance. Brienne welcomed him inside, lifted her pelvis to meet him as his tongue slipped into her clutching passage. He fucked her with his mouth, teeth and lips and fingers working at the sensitive skin until she was mindless beneath him. He felt her orgasm building, felt the muscles bear down and her breath catch until finally _-finally_ she broke apart around him, clawing at the sheets and screaming his name.

Jaime pressed his forehead to her inner thigh, breathing in the scent of her release and stroking her stomach as the aftershocks rocked through her. Brienne’s head was thrown back and she was gasping for air like a woman drowning, a prideful beast settled in his chest at the sight. _He did that, made her feel that._ The power of it settled in his already firm cock.

With careful movements he crawled the length of her body and nestled beside her, their faces inches apart in the dark. For a moment he panicked, afraid she would be revolted by the smell. Brienne was innocent enough to have never experienced the scent of her own arousal. She shocked him _—of course she did—_ pressing her lips to his without hesitation.Jaime slipped his tongue in her mouth, letting Brienne taste her sex on his skin. The act so intimate she cried silent tears that landed on the pillow near his head.

He didn’t know what to say, and apparently neither did she. There was too much between them, too late to think straight and the right words wouldn’t come. Brienne ran a trembling finger down his chest, paused over the obvious erection tenting his sweatpants. “Should I?” Just the offer was enough to make him laugh, he kissed her nose and squeezed her tight.

“Next time love…next time.” She slipped away to the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth (a Stormland’s girl _would_ draw water in preparation for a power outage), cleaned his hair and face with gentle strokes before returning to his side.

The bottom fell out just as she pulled up the covers, a low, seductive rumble as rain pelted the roof accompanied by the distant crack of thunder. Brienne was naked beside him, not bothering to find her clothes in the dark. Jaime was happier this way: it allowed him to wrap his arm around her warm, thick waist, to fall asleep on her strong shoulder.

“Thank you.” He whispered into her hair while her breath slowed, arms twitching as she fell toward sleep beneath him.

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you?” She surprised him with an answer, Jaime thought she had drifted off.

“Trust me Brienne, the pleasure was all mine.” Jaime was at peace, relaxed and calm for the first time in years. His tension drained away in the afterglow of her climax.

“Not _all…_ ” Her voice was so quiet he could have imagined it, the still eventually broken by Brienne’s sleepy chuckle. Jaime joined in and they giggled together until they were both exhausted, he fell asleep with a laugh in his throat.

**< ><><><><><>**

Brienne sat bolt upright, called awake by of the sudden brightness behind her eyelids and the sound of talking in the next room. It took her a moment to gain her bearings, caught off guard by cool air against her bare chest and the generalized sensation of dried sweat. Jaime was curled around her, long legs stretched across her lap and head on her pillow.He was especially beautiful in sleep: heavy lashes on golden skin, perfect cheekbones, lips that could be deemed feminine without his sharp words to distract from their fullness.

_Too perfect for you._

The sullen voice in her head tried valiantly to spoil the moment, but it was a bloodless thing; a phantom next to the living memory of Jaime’s hands and mouth on her body. Brienne witnessed his blinding joy as her pleasure erupted over them both, his pride at making her come undone. He held her after her climax and she knew love, unspoken but real. There was no condition attached to his affection for her, it was there. It was enough. _I am enough._

She slipped soundlessly out of bed, turned off the television that blared to life as the power came back. One by one clicking off lights and blowing out candles until only her bedside lamp remained. Exiting the bathroom she ran into Jaime. He stumbled in the near-dark, bumping against her as he made his way to the toilet.

“I’m sorry, I was just _-just…_ ” She waved a hand behind her, intending to point Jaime in the right direction when he caught her wrist.With surreal slowness he lifted her pulse to his lips, eyes traveling the length of her arm, to her waist…her legs. Brienne hadn’t thought about her appearance as she wandered around the apartment naked and disheveled, too intent on letting Jaime sleep.

“Gods woman…you are _intentionally_ driving me insane. Anything else you’d like to bend over and switch off?” His handless arm curved around her waist, slung low on her hip so that the scarred stump rested against her ass. Green eyes glinted in the low light, challenging her, waiting for the flinch that never came.

Brienne slid an arm around his neck, happy to have any part of him touching her. _Nothing_ that existed between them felt wrong, not after all the rough water they had crossed to be here. How could any act seem indecent or embarrassing with those evergreen eyes staring back? The same eyes that had mapped her insecurities and tender spots, guarded her as a girl and seduced her as a woman and haunted all her dreams. Brienne _wanted_ this _—wanted him._ She would be brave.

With gentle insistence she drew him closer. Jaime tiptoed into her arms, scattered tiny kisses along her bottom lip, nipping and dragging at the full skin until she opened to him. Their joining was lazy and deep, a sweet, steady rock of bodies and mouths as she tangled her hand in his hair and swallowed his breath. The rough scar tissue sliding back and forth against her goose-fleshed bottom making her shake.

“Come on…” Brienne pulled away with a smile, led him by the wrist to the shadowed bathroom. Turning on the shower tap, she silently started undressing him as steam filled the small space.

“What’s this?” His teeth shined, a surprised smile. Still he seemed uncertain, hesitant.

“I smell sweaty and it’s your fault.” Jaime huffed and she poked him in the ribs, working at the tie of his pants. “So do you Lannister.” He did laugh at that, finding her nose in the dark with a kiss. “Besides, we’re already awake and warm water and bubbles sounds like a really good way to relax.”

“Brienne, are you sure?” She cupped his face in her hands, trying to catch the emotions in her palms, understand the misconception that held him back. 

“Tell me _why._ ” Leaning until her forehead touched his, Jaime felt fragile in her hold.

“I don’t deserve this, don’t deserve _you…_ ” Brienne grunted in disagreement and he covered her hand with his good one, splayed his fingers and held tight with needy insistence. “You’re still so pure, a whole life ahead of you, an-and I’m soiled. The dirt…it’s ground into my pores, you wipe and wipe Brienne, but it won’t come clean.”

“And what do _I_ deserve?” She felt the slight jerk of his hand, the desire to pull away passing through him like a cold wind. “Do you think that I don’t have wants, that those wants don’t include making love to you?” Brienne felt the whimper that was too soft to hear, a wound on his soul. “ _Dammit Jaime…_ I lie awake at night imagining what it would feel like to hold you as you come.”

He moved closer, chest hairs brushing against her nipples. They tightened, greedy for his touch. “Well that’s a coincidence, because I come at night thinking about you holding me.” She felt the minuscule shift of muscles under her fingers, a tug around his eyes, a twist at the mouth; his smile appearing in increments.

“We should probably collaborate.” She laughed the response into his hair, and Jaime chuckled in return, some of his hesitation expelled with the sound.“ _Please…_ ” She took his hand again, tugging him into the spray and shutting the curtain behind them. It was darker here, the glow from the bedside lamp weak beyond the bathroom entrance.

Brienne felt around for the bar of soap, coated her hands and threaded them through the soft curls low on his belly. Jaime made an unintelligible sound, a gargling _-gasping_ noise deep in his throat as he stumbled back, bumping against the shower wall. Unmoving, she allowed her hands alone to trail after him, firm against his hot skin. “Brienne _-Brienne…_ oh fuck Brienne…”

Jaime trembled beneath her palms, muscles stretched and jumping as warm streams funneled between them, slid the length of her fingers before disappearing into the coarse strands below. Brienne added more suds, inched forward until she could sense the thrum of him a heartbeat away, rubbed slick circles in the skin of his abdomen and chest, moving upward toward clavicle, neck, shoulders. She soothed him with voice and hands, whispering tiny words: “Jaime… _my Jaime…_ ” and “…only _you_ Jaime, only _us…_ ” The sweat of earlier cleaned from his body, if not quite his shame and bitter memories.

Brienne ran nails through his hair, wet strands clinging to her fingers as she scrubbed his scalp, his breath like little explosions beneath her chin. He called her name, _over and over,_ a low chant as his cock twitched between them;the silky fullness resting against her thigh before slipping between her legs where it pulsed hot against her skin. She held her breath, hands fisted on his shoulders as Jaime moaned like something wounded, grasping at the wall as his hips betrayed him with little thrusts.

“Brienne we shouldn’t, _I can’t…_ no- _not yet_ , not…oh fuck, _oh gods._ ” The want was there, it grumbled in the darkness, covered in a sheen of fear. Body and conscience caught in a tug of war, neither side quick to relent. Jaime turned in her arms, faced away from her clenching heat. “I won’t take your virginity tonight.I _want_ to…shit I’m dying to hoist you against the wall, bury myself in you…”. He folded his arms on the slick tile, leaning against them with a sob. “I can’t get beyond the conviction that I would ruin you with the act. _Me_ specifically. _I_ would ruin you. What the fuck is wrong with me Brienne? Am I broken?”

“No. Not broken.”Brienne reached around his waist, paused with her hand over his erection waiting for his reaction. His breath came in fluttery pants, but he didn’t shy away. With considered slowness she wrapped long fingers around his thick arousal, his response immediate as he bucked and threw his head into her shoulder. She stroked him gently, whispering in his ear as he nearly purred in reply. “A little banged up…a little twisted.” Rolling her wrist to match her words Jaime let out an appreciative groan. “You’ve lost faith in yourself, in others…you don’t think you’re worthy of me, but I would give you _everything_.”

Tightening her grip, she caressed his length with deliberate tugs. Rolled the tip against her callused palm until he whimpered before sliding back up his thick shaft. Jaime’s control was quickly fading, he braced his shoulders against her chest and thrust into her fist as she flattened her other hand to his stomach, pinning him to her. No longer able to form coherent thoughts, Jaime cried out: a litany of curses and wild sounds, and through it all her name…again and again.

She felt his climax like a storm on the horizon, a gathering swirl of power and fury as he coiled in her arms. His face was flush to the shower wall and his hips were swinging in frantic circles, banging into the cradle of her arms. Knees and elbows and shoulders colliding with her in a furious battle for release. _It was beautiful._ Beautiful and terrifying and more raw than anything she could have imagined as Jaime howled with frustration and slammed harder against her fingers.

“ _Let go._ ” She mouthed it against his ear, clung to him as her nipples slid rough against his slick skin and his firm backside ground into her pelvis. Brienne started to clench in time with his movements, grasping at the empty space as her desire caught wind of his release and chased after. “Jaime I’m _right here,_ I’ll keep you safe.” He gripped her desperately, wrapping an arm behind her waist as she bore him into the wall, as she rolled her hips and he writhed and keened. Still thrusting _-thrusting-almost_ —so close. Brienne couldn’t think, not beyond the panicked gallop of her heart and the rending need to show him, make him understand. _“Jaime I love you.”_

He screamed her name, thrashing beneath her as his seed spilled over her hand in warm spurts. _Brienne-Brienne-Brienne-Brienne._ With each clench of his muscles he called to her. Her orgasm caught her off-guard, so consumed with the disassembling man in her arms that she nearly missed what was happening as pleasure shot down her spine. Legs shaking and toes balled she squeezed his waist, whispering _“oh fuck, oh fuck”_ into the space between his shoulder blades.

For a few long seconds she saw white in the darkness.The sensation of Jaime’s back heaving in front of her and his fingers fumbling to tangle in her hair tethering her to reality as she swam in the limbo of her release. He spoke first, voice hoarse and full of wonder. “ _Oh gods_ Brienne that was _…shit._ Just bloody hell…gods…”

“Beautifully said.” She laughed against his skin, and he dropped his hand to swat blindly in the direction of her ass. Brienne stayed behind him despite his efforts to turn around, pressing open mouthed kisses along his backbone, the tendons of his neck. Enjoying this powerful joy, reveling in how he fell apart with her name on his lips.

Eventually he convinced her to circle to his front, cocooned her in strong arms and buried his face in her hair. They stood in the spray as water filled the cracks between them, cleansing all trace of his release. Brienne said a silent prayer that some of his thick guilt would wash down the drain as well.

She led him from the shower like a child, dried him off and tugged him back to bed. Jaime was uncharacteristically quiet, overly serious as he shuffled behind her.Brienne gnawed at her lip, felt the churning dread in her stomach that _maybe_ she’d overstepped, screwed this up like all the other missed cues between them. Opening her mouth to make light of it, she was about to give some quip about people saying the damnedest things in the middle of an unscheduled orgasm when he finally spoke.

_“I love you too.”_ His head was back on her pillow and his lips were on her throat, and between the muffle of her skin and the fractured rasp of his voice she could barely understand. _Did he say?_ Flopping one leg over hers and throwing his arm across her chest he hung to her like a life preserver, she felt him sinking and pulled him tight. “ _Fuck me,_ I love you so much, I have for so long, _so fucking long._ Holding back is killing me, oh duck…”

“Jaime.” Brienne sighed his name, cradled his head in the crook of her neck. His breath was moist against her skin. It dripped down her shoulder, too wet for breath alone, but she didn’t ask. She would attack his walls one at a time, convince him that he was enough, that his stumbles proved he was human despite the god-like looks. _He loves me. I love him._ “We’re going to be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Meriwyn for being my ever-present cheerleader and sounding board. Thank you to Jamie for pre-reading the sexy parts and your kind encouragement.
> 
> Very special thanks to sdwolfpup for agreeing to beta the end of this story. You have been great to work with, so generous with your feedback and time. You made this so much better. 
> 
> As always, I am simultaneously terrified and excited to post the sexy chapters, please let me know what you think. Comments are so appreciated.


	12. Be Fierce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daylight didn’t so much break as creep up on them, the sky still deep gray, a spatter of rain against the window with each gust of wind. He was facing away from Brienne—a fact he was instantly grateful for—still held in the circle of her arms. On her bedside dresser there were two matching frames, two photos. His eyes slowly adjusted to the low light, his gaze drifting from the happy faces of her family to his grin as they surfed together. She slept alone next to his photograph, woke to his smile. 

The night passed in a haze, long stretches of slumber broken by the unexpected touch, a new sensation. Brienne was the only constant, her solid presence beside him like a dream, one he hadn’t allowed himself to want.

**< ><><>**

Hot. Hot and heavy and he was sinking into more soft heat and his hand, it was somewhere sweaty and oh _…fuck._ Jaime stuttered awake. Brienne chuckled beside him, twined her fingers with his and slid them down her stomach to rest at her hip. _“…’s o-okay, o-kay.”_ She mumbled her way back to sleep, and he followed.

**< ><><>**

“…oh oww, _shit._ ” Something hard hit his knee…or _wait,_ he hit something hard with his knee and, oh-oh. “sorry _…damn_ sorry…” She groaned, the gravelly sound shooting straight to his crotch. “…it’s alright sweetheart.” _Sweetheart,_ he was the sweetheart. He grinned, snorted as he slipped under…

**< ><><>**

_“mmmm…hey there…”_ kisses…he was kissing her _where?_ Between her shoulders, oh good. He’d seen freckles there earlier and gods she’s soft, silk over steel. Soft and hot and _“…that’s nice…”_ She sounded so sexy asleep… _she’s asleep. I’m sleepy. I’ll put my head against her and rest a minute, just a minute._

**_< ><><>_ **

“..no, no I don’t want to…dammit Cers, I can’t-wo-won’t please Cers, _please,_ fuck…”

“who _—what?_ Jaime stop…” Elbow. His elbow hit something and _oh._

“Brienne…sorry, no-no…” He scrambled away. 

“I’m fine. Jaime…really, I’m fine.” Like a boxer punch drunk after too many rounds, he was breathless and swinging. She smothered his blows, tucked his head beneath her chin. “You’re safe now, _sleep…”_ He did.

**< ><><>**

Shaking, she was shaking. No, was that… _giggling?_ Yes. _“Hmmm?”_ A question. _“…fingers”_ she answered. Oh, they were in her navel, gods. _I’m pathetic._ He swirled them in a circle for good measure, tracing the indent with light strokes that forced her giggle into a groan, he hummed with satisfaction. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed each knuckle. He nosed at her hair…

**< ><><>**

“Okay, _enough._ ” He was moving, lifting and flipping to his side and…oh. “You’re smothering me love.” _Love…that’s nice. “Love you too.”_ He mumbled it back as she slipped an arm around his waist and hauled him tight, her chest flush to his back. Fingers skimming through fine hairs and a foot wedged between his calves, long toes stoking the skin in that way that he liked so _very_ much. He whimpered, pride be damned, and settled against her.

“Love you.” She mouthed it against his ear, it echoed in the dark as he sank once more.

**< ><><><><><>**

Daylight didn’t so much break as creep up on them, the sky still deep gray, a spatter of rain against the window with each gust of wind. He was facing away from Brienne—a fact he was instantly grateful for—still held in the circle of her arms. On her bedside dresser there were two matching frames, two photos.His eyes slowly adjusted to the low light, his gaze drifting from the happy faces of her family to his grin as they surfed together. She slept alone next to his photograph, woke to his smile.

_Six years. Six fucking years of looking at me every morning._

For a moment he was falling, caught between exhilaration and terror as his stomach lurched and his eyes snapped shut.

_She never hated me. Never turned away, never put me aside._

He wasn’t sure if that realization abated or intensified his guilt. Jaime pictured her image on his wall at home, the blue eyes that watched over him like his own version of salvation, the ones he’d spent countless evenings pondering, looking for answers in the watery recesses. Guilt shifted into something else, a sad longing for all the nights and days they’d wasted on empty stares, when all along she’d been right here, _not_ hating him, and he’d been right there…mourning her loss.

Brienne shifted behind him, a catch in her breathing that let him know she was drifting awake. For a wild moment he considered bolting, grabbing his sweatpants and heading to the door. If he faced her she would know, really _-really know_ all he was feeling. It would be there in his eyes, in the shaky smile that he fought to steady and the stubborn arousal that just wouldn’t fade no matter how many deep breaths he took.

“Hi there.” She whispered it into the still, slid her hand up and down his chest as she scooted impossibly closer. Any thought of running dissipated, the grittiness of her voice making his blood thrum. “No morning kiss?”

“I can’t turn around.” His voice cracked. He hoped she wouldn’t make him explain.

“Jaime…” she paused, he could hear the humor in her words. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but…well…” Brienne was so warm against him, he wondered if he could feel her blushing against his back.He wondered if every part of her blushed. “…you’ve been half hard all night…a-and it’s not that big a bed.”

“Did I bludgeon you with my sword in my sleep?” She chuckled, low and sweet, and his worry suddenly seemed silly.With a deep inhale he turned in her arms, tried not to overreact as his very firm cock slipped over her leg to settle against her soft inner thigh. She raised an eyebrow in greeting but said nothing, simply wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in.

“Not a bludgeoning…” She trailed little kisses along his jaw, nibbled at the skin of his neck. “…love taps?” Brienne did laugh now, it was barking and loud, unreserved in a way that forced him tocover her mouth with his.

The kiss was deep and deliberate, an effortless intertwining that felt natural in this half-lit world. He let it consume him, sliding his tongue against hers in a lazy rhythm meant for savoring. Brienne groaned just a little, way down in her throat, her body blossoming to attention against him. Still there was no rush, no urgency or destination, just the enjoyment of his hand and lips on her skin, his breath heavy against her face and neck.

After a few moments Jaime pulled back, brushed the wild hairs from her cheeks as she grinned. “You look like we battled all night.” She pinked beneath his fingertips.

“I swear, that was more than ten rounds. Twelve…at least.” He winced and Brienne smoothed the worry lines with her knuckles, hands fluttering across his scalp. “Why do I look a fright and you look well tousled?” She cocked her head to the side, eyes darker than usual. “You’re a very nice view to wake up to.” His brain charged forward, spurred on by her words.

“Is that why you keep my picture beside your bed?” He blurted it, instantly sorry.

Brienne frowned, a small furrow of confusion between wide, questioning eyes. “I did, I-I do, isn’t that…I mean, is that okay?”

“Oh…yes. _Shit._ Brienne, I didn’t mean it that…” Jaime paused, cupped her chin with hand and stump and held her gaze, his words precise. “I thought you wouldn’t want to be reminded of me… _after-_ after everything.”

“I never want to forget you.” Her voice so quiet, a secret she had kept all this time. Jaime’s chest ached with understanding.

He slipped his handless arm beneath her, curled the elbow and dragged her close. Brienne shivered, her body bending into his touch. She thought herself flat…shapeless, but propped on her side every curve was accentuated. He ghosted fingertips the length of her ribcage, relished her startled gasp as he cupped her hip, fingertips sinking into the soft flesh, teasing at the rounded muscle of her bottom. Jaime groaned in appreciation, his desperate erection pinned between firm thighs. She was wet against him, eyes blown wide in the sleepy morning light, only a rim of blue remaining.

“Brienne, is it alright if we…I-I don’t want you to feel rushed, a-and if you’re not ready…” His voice rasped, want bubbling to the surface beneath his restraint. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulled him forward until their foreheads met and he found himself staring at the spray of freckles across her cheeks, glittering like sand in the washed out dawn.

“I’m ready Jaime _…are you?_ ” She timidly rolled her hips, a drawn out slide of velvet skin tugging against his full cock and… _oh fuck. Fuck._ The sound he made was pained as his eyes pressed shut against the pleasure.

“Brienne, gods that’s…” She moved again, more forceful this time, strong hands gripping his shoulders as she rocked back and forth, his rigid length clutched between muscled legs. He wanted this, more than anything he could remember ever wanting. With a need that surpassed his missing hand, a desire more urgent than his will to surf. Brienne…he wanted Brienne.

Eyes closed, he lost himself in the little sounds she was making, the swallowed moans and low grunts. Her hips were frantic now, jerking back and forth with purpose. He was so hard, so close to her heat; a tilt of the pelvis, a hand beneath her knee and he would ease into her. She was ready, her thighs slick with arousal as he slipped across her entrance.

“So good baby…so good…” Brienne growled the words, something about the phrase settling wrong. _Baby._ _She’d_ called him that. Brown hair and painted lashes, too sharp nails and slippery words…and _baby._

_She didn’t know my name either._

_Don’t screw this up. This is Brienne, this isn’t…but it feels the same and gods it sounds the same and…shit._ Shit. _I can’t._ “Stop… _please-please,_ Brienne stop.”

She stilled immediately, eyes like storm clouds opening in alarm.“I-I didn’t mean to…did I do something? I thought it was, th-that you _wanted…_ ” And just like that he broke it. There was hurt in those blue depths now, uncertainty.

“ _No._ No…it’s me. I can’t…” He kissed her jaw, buried his head near her pulse as his dick went limp between them. “ _Shit._ Shit I’m so sorry Brienne. This has nothing to do with you, I _want_ you.”

He didn’t realize he was shaking until Brienne comforted him, spread calloused hands across his back and hummed a mournful note as she pressed kisses into his temple. “Tell me why.” The same words she’d used the night before, spoken without judgment or frustration. So calm, so trusting.

“When you were, when we just…” Jaime sighed against her sweaty skin and she shivered with lingering arousal.“I _saw_ her, could feel…I was right back there, and she and I…we were…” A sudden wave of fury washed over him, he stiffened in Brienne’s arms. Jaime let himself embrace it this time, the burning hatred he harbored for _that_ woman and his sister. The need to punish himself for what they had done.

Brienne felt the shift but didn’t let go, whispering _“shhh”_ as she dragged her fingers along his spine.She waited in silence, giving him space to find his words.

“I don’t understand.” He sounded petulant, but didn’t care. “What we did last night was beautiful an-and I cherish every second of it and…why now? _Why fucking now?_ ”

“Maybe it’s _because_ you let me touch you? Having a near-sex experience…” He choked on sudden mirth, felt Brienne smiling against his cheek. _She’s a fucking miracle._ “Don’t laugh…it’s just, I think maybe doing _that…_ I don’t know, sort of opened the lid on memories you’ve been repressing? Women who are abused often re-live that moment again and again, why wouldn’t you? I mean, I’m no shrink…” She shrugged beside him, her fingers lingering on his hips, his back.

“You deserve more.” She shook her head in denial as he continued. “Someone whole, someone without a minefield of broken memories. I think I’m getting better until another one goes off and that’s just…it’s _not_ what you signed up for Brienne. I love you…should be able to _make love_ to you. A real man would.”

His arms trembled, panic threatening to overtake him until Brienne’s voice cut through: “ _…no-no-no…_ I understand, I do. _Jaime…I do._ It’s okay. _”_ She held him so tightly, he could hear her heart beneath her ribs, pounding with frustrated desire.

“…it’s not, it’s not…” He wanted to be better for her.

“Sex isn’t what makes you a good man _…a good partner._ Intimacy is-it’s nice, _wonderful_ actually…but there’s so much more to you. I love you, not your penis.”

“Good thing. It’s pretty out of practice.” He grumbled into her shoulder, felt her deep laugh against his cheek.

“Jaime _…my love.”_ She crooned the endearment, stroked lightly across his shoulders, down his arm. “Did you think this would fix overnight? You arrive unannounced, bag in hand…with a shit ton of issues that you’d ignored as they grew into monsters _._ Look how far you’ve come in just a few weeks. Look at what _we_ were able to do, that was _…amazing._ ” His chest swelled a little at the happy awe in her voice.

“I know, but…” She shushed him, patted the back of his head to silence the rebuttal.

Leaning close, she spoke into his hair, the words quiet and muffled. “You are talking to a woman who has had exactly two _…”_ She held up fingers in front of him to make her point. _“…_ count them _two_ orgasms with another person in the room.” He started to laugh, she patted his head harder this time, knocking him silent. “I am in no rush.”

Jaime flushed with the memory of her falling apart, shaking and cursing as he came in her hand. Without a touch she had crumbled under the joy of his pleasure.It made him bold. “Some lazy morning, a morning just like this…” Pausing, he searched for the way forward.

Brienne picked up the thought, carried it as if she could see the path. “…we’ll wake up like this, and you’ll be in my arms and it will feel so right, so easy…”

“…and there will be no hesitation, no guilt or fear separating us.” He kissed her nose, her cheeks.

“…and it will feel like coming home.” She sighed the words into the quiet.

“…like home.” He prayed it would be soon.

**< ><><><><><>**

Brienne watched the overcast sky, listened to the rumbling surf. It would be a great day for waves, their white peaks calling to her even as she slept in Jaime’s arms. She hadn’t realized that a different storm was brewing in her bed, not until she’d found herself tossed about in its fury.

Her body had quaked, stirred to a frenzy by Jaime’s kisses, by his thick arousal tucked between her legs stroking her mindless. It had taken a moment for his words to register, she’d been too far gone. The ache in her core a demand, a grasping greedy thing that hadn’t wanted to hear his plea to stop. She’d panted and stilled, but her heart had raced on, the tension pleading for release.

Another time she would have cried. Blamed her plain face, her muscled arms and thick waist for his unhappiness. She realized with a shock that Jaime wasn’t the only one who had made huge strides over the last month—even Brienne’s worst demons couldn’t sway her belief in him.

He was the one hurting, the one torn up over the fact that he couldn’t fuck her properly. If it were less sad she’d laugh. This gorgeous, generous man who lusted for her with anguish that bordered on insanity while _she_ comforted _him_ through his insecurity. It would be funny if she loved him less. Instead she pained with him, note for note.

Jaime eased himself from her arms, her bed, shuffled off to the bathroom and returned moments later with his wet clothes in a bundle. “We stepped on these…after.” He looked like a teenager, caught literally with his pants down as he held the wrinkled clothes in front of his crotch.

Brienne leaned back beneath the covers and grinned at him, for the first time ever the one with the upper hand in this type of situation. She looked him top to bottom, let her eyes linger on his lean legs and flat abdomen. After a moment he huffed, did a little spin on his toes that made her squeak with delight. “See something you like?” His tone gruff but playful.

“Could you do that one more time…more slowly? Maybe with a pause…” He turned in a circle, more deliberate this time, giving her a chance to focus on his firm ass and wide, sculpted shoulders. When he faced her again there was a fire glowing in the green of his eyes that did nothing to steady the lingering hum of her body.

“That’s bloody well enough of your staring.” He threw the balled clothes at her, she cackled and beat them away as they shot toward her face. “I’m afraid I’ve quite ruined you, Selwyn will have my head.”

“Both of them,” she purred in reply and he gasped and covered his mouth, but there was affection in the corners of his eyes that he couldn’t disguise.

“Can I borrow some pants?” He headed toward her dresser, started randomly opening drawers and glancing inside.

“Nosy.” Jaime stilled at the weak reprimand, she pointed to the bottom drawer. “Tees and sweats in there.”

He rifled through the contents for a second before dragging out a very worn pair of heather grey sweatpants with a patch of darker material sewn over one knee, holding them up and grinning. “I loved it when you wore these on the tour. I found myself wondering why you kept them, what made _them_ special?” He looked over his shoulder, begging an answer.

“I wore them to the state track meet junior year, took three firsts. They’re my lucky pants.” Facing away once more he ran his thumb over the stitches, as if he could feel the memory there. A little bit of her embedded in the threads. “You can borrow them _…just borrow._ I’ll probably die in those pants, curled up on the sofa with my cats.”

“And me.” He slipped them on quickly, like she might change her mind. “I’ll be on the sofa with you, or dead already. I’m older after all…” She frowned at his back. This _should_ be awkward, talking about cat co-ownership and forever together. Instead it was fine, normal even, which also should freak her out but didn’t.He stirred around in her stack of shirts, lifted one with a _“Viper Strike”_ logo on the front and turned with a look of feigned horror. “Sleeping with the competition Brienne? What kind of heathen…”

“Don’t…that’s _mine._ ” She leaned forward, tried to grab the shirt as he yanked it away. Jaime raised a brow in question, stared her down until she relented. “I took one…the night you delivered them to the homeless camp. Stuffed it behind the truck seat while you weren’t looking.” Her face gave the importance of it away, he was suddenly awkward.

“I-I’m sorry, that was overbearing. I didn’t mean…” Jaime started to put it back, she stood quickly, squeezed his hand with enough force to feel the material crumple in his fist.

“That night was the first time I saw you…the _real_ you. I nabbed the tee to remember, a-and I was already half in love with you.” He leaned toward her, rubbed his forehead against her temple like one of those cats they had yet to adopt. “I had to keep it.” Her voice caught and he nodded, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her.

When he spoke his voice was far away, dream-like: “I fell for you that morning, at the beach by the orchard _…my_ beach.” Brienne chuckled at the memory, at her naiveté in thinking he owned the land, when he had just grown up surfing there. “You were the only other person I’d met who was more relaxed on a board than anywhere else. When you surfed that day, there was so much life in you…it just poured out. I wanted to bathe in it, soak it up like a sponge, like I’d never _lived_ before that moment.”

Brienne smiled a sad smile, brushed the hairs away from his forehead with her nose until her lips touched skin. “We wasted so much time.” He sighed into her shoulder.

“I’m still wasting your time.” The self-contempt snuck back into his voice, she drew his face to her neck, he gladly kissed her in response.

“Even if this is all I get, it’s enough.” He mumbled a protest, but she gripped him tighter. “Waking up with you, it’s a gift Jaime.”

She held him a moment longer, kissed the top of his head as he pulled the shirt on with a low “…just for today, _I promise._ ” But it felt good to see him in it, like he was wearing their history on his back, her buried longing on display for everyone to see.

“I’m going to surf.” Brienne stated it as fact, wondered if he’d protest. The storm had turned the sea treacherous, big water and strong currents. Her father would fret.

Jaime wrinkled his forehead, the concern reaching his pursed lips but no further. Looking away for a second then back before asking: “Will you let me watch?”

She grinned, nodded enthusiastically before heading to the closet to collect her dry suit.“Especially if you make coffee while I get dressed.”

He grunted in agreement then turned toward the door. “Promise me you’ll be careful, I don’t know what I’d do if…” Jaime had his hand on the knob, a fragile look on his face.

Brienne understood, she did. If anything happened to him now, after all they’d been through, her heart wouldn’t make it. But surfing was breathing, to ask her to give it up would be cutting off a piece of herself, maybe the most important one. The waves kept her sane when she lost Jaime, when she lost her brother. “I need this Jaime.”

He searched her expression, recognized the futility of arguing. Jaime knew her passion, it lived in him. “Just…come back to me, okay?” His voice was low and serious, not at all the reckless man she’d first met. _Love makes you cautious._

“I already did…I always will.” They shared a smile as he exited onto her landing.

**< ><><><><><>**

Jaime was focused on his phone, busy texting Davos in a frantic attempt to set up a session that afternoon. “The sooner the better.” He mumbled to himself, almost missing the annoyed snort of the very large man sitting in a porch swing, facing his daughter’s door.

“Morning.” He flinched at the low growl of Selwyn’s voice. The old man had one hell of a poker face, Jaime stopped three steps from the ground, feigned a nonchalant expression.

“Good morning Mr. Tarth.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Just fetching coffee for Brienne.” Maybe if he was lucky Selwyn would assume…

“Nice pants.” _Well fuck._ He didn’t appear angry; there was a calm to his demeanor that was infinitely more terrifying. “Why don’t you pour me a cup first, sit for a few minutes. I’m sure my daughter can wait.” 

Jaime stumbled barefoot to the kitchen, prayed for the floorboards to swallow him on the way— _no such luck._ He gripped two mug handles in his one hand, tried to steady his arm enough to keep from scalding himself. “Here you are.” Selwyn accepted the cup in silence. Jaime had tucked a few packs of sugar in a pocket, just in case. “I didn’t know how you liked it…”

“Black is good.” He blew across the surface, took a tentative sip. Jaime settled uncomfortably into the swing and Selwyn pushed off, drifted back and forth a few passes before speaking again. “Did you sleep with my daughter?”

Jaime thought of hedging, answering _“no”_ on a technicality seemed a coward’s path, and Selwyn Tarth was set to play a large role in his future. He steeled his voice, replied as decisively as he could muster under the circumstances:“Yes sir.”

Selwyn grunted in affirmation, unsurprised by the answer. “I appreciate the honesty.” They continued to swing, he sipped his coffee. Jaime tried not to fidget next to him. “She happy?”

That was _not_ the question he expected. Jaime remembered her joy last night, her grin this morning. “Yes sir…she is.”

“There’s no need to call me sir, I’m still Selwyn.” He patted Jaime on the knee, it felt surprisingly like friendship. “The first day you grabbed the handle of that giant cooler, helped set up our tent _…I knew._ Spent the next few months expecting to find you two in the back seat of that red Jeep of yours…or worse my truck.” He chuckled, shook his head at the memory. “It was never _‘if’_ but _‘when’_ for you and Brienne…gods did you fool me on that count.”

“We took the scenic route.” They both laughed then, Jaime’s tension carried away on a salty breeze. He finally had the stomach for a sip of coffee, watched the storm tossed waves. “Why aren’t you more angry?”It was stupid to poke a sleeping bear, but his curiosity had a mind of its own.

“I was.” Selwyn’s voice never changed, the same rolling sound that seemed to flow from the center of his massive chest; but the air around him flickered with power, a threat in the huge man’s stillness. “When I heard her crying behind her door, when she looked at her phone a hundred times a day…quietly begging for a scrap of your attention. It’s just—she’s my baby and…ye-yeah, _shit_ I was furious.”

The older man cradled his mug, turning it in a circle as brown liquid sloshed against the rim, appearing abashed by his admission. Jaime opened his mouth, closed it again; unable to find words equal to the shame he felt. “Mr. Tarth…I don’t know _what_ t-to— _how_ to make it… _fuck…”_

Selwyn chuckled, nodded. “Yep…fuck.” Jaime stewed in embarrassment, fought the instinct to flee until he spoke again. “Then I saw Tyrion on the beach that first day and I expected to feel it all over again…the rage and disappointment _,_ but it was just _gone._ ” He sighed, looking out over the dunes, eyes like storm clouds.

The waves were so loud, and Selwyn so silent—it was maddening. Jaime waited, trying for once to keep his damn mouth shut until Brienne’s father figured out what he needed to say.When Selwyn spoke again his voice had dropped to a whisper. “I’ve buried a wife…a son…” He grimaced, pain floating to the surface of his usually kind face. “…in my heart I’d buried you too.”

Jaime made a strangled sound, lost in the roar of the surf. “I’m so sorry.” The words were weak, he didn’t know what else to say.

Selwyn met Jaime’s gaze head on with fondness. “I’m an old man who is unwilling to lose anything more. I’m happy you’re back in our lives, happy to see my daughter laugh again. There’s no time left for anger, after all…I’d like grandchildren someday.” His lips pulled up in an embarrassed smile, and Jaime mirrored it.

“I’ll see what Brienne makes of that request.” He found his grin widening at the thought.

They sat in silence once more, alone with the creak of the swing and the rumble off the sea.“Are you going to take her away?” Selwyn looked suddenly tired, shrunken. His watchdog presence outside Brienne’s door finally making sense.

“No sir _…Selwyn._ ” Jaime shook his head, the urge to defend himself building. “I would never pull her away from this.” He held out his hand, waved it to encompass the cottage and cabins. “She took all that hurt and made something wonderful from it. Convincing Brienne to give up on her dream…it would be a real dick move.”

Selwyn nodded, pushed off again. “Never saw you as a controlling asshole, but I needed to ask.” More quiet, a few more sips of coffee. “So what now?”

“I’m not sure.” Jaime answered honestly, Selwyn frowned. “I’m staying…” He rushed to correct any wrong presumptions her father might jump to, his track record was sketchy after all. “…but I’m not sure where. I can’t live in the cabin, and I don’t think I should move in with Brienne…not yet.”

“I could help with that.” Selwyn smiled, it reminded him of her. “I converted my garage into an apartment years ago, intended on renting it out…but it was more hassle than I expected.”

“Selwyn, are you asking me to move in?” Jaime smirked and the older man raised his mug in a toast.

“Do you think my daughter will be jealous?” He gave a huff of laughter,“Let’s not tell Brienne just yet.”

“Tell me what?” She trotted down the last few steps, stood with hands on hips in front of them with a wary expression. “What are you two up to, and where is my coffee?” She kicked at Jaime’s feet as he moved in and out of range, the swing still in motion.

“Just catching up.” Her father gave Brienne a warm smile, no trace of discomfort in his sky blue eyes. “Jaime and I haven’t chatted much since he arrived.”

“That’s nice.” She shot a skeptical glance at Jaime before adding: “I’ll get my own.”

Jaime bounced to his feet, grabbed for her hand. “No, I-I’ll get it. Here…sit with your dad for a few minutes. I have it on good authority that he loves you very much.” Selwyn hummed in agreement, and Brienne’s brows met in confusion, the expression so honest that Jaime just had to kiss her forehead, the tip of her nose. Her warm breath called to him and he pressed his lips to hers, soft and yearning. 

The kiss was short but sweet, Brienne sighing against his mouth for the briefest of seconds before pulling away. Selwyn was watching them, a twinkle in his eye that Jaime had definitely seen before.

“Dad, would you like to…I’m surfing and I asked Jaime to watch, if you’re not busy…” She fiddled with the zipper of her suit, feeling for the boundaries of this new relationship.

“I’ll worry either way.” Selwyn shook his head, a look of long-suffering surrender. “We’ll need chairs.” He stood and headed for the storage shed, leaving Jaime and Brienne to stare after him.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Brienne whispered: “Do you think he…”

“ _Oh fuck,_ yes. He knows.” Brienne blanched and Jaime grabbed her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “He’s okay with it.”

“Gods…why?” She was clinging to Jaime, her other hand pressed to her mouth in dismay.

“I’m charming.” Brienne laughed at that, an edge of hysteria to the sound. He pulled her into his arms, smoothed along her back. “All he cares about is your happiness, and I assured him that I make you _very happy._ ” She groaned at the implication.

“Don’t talk about sex with my dad.” He laughed and squeezed her tight. “Seriously…just _don’t.”_

He was still holding her, both grinning as Selwyn returned and patted Jaime on the shoulder. “Grab her board son…I’ll drive.”

Jaime met Selwyn’s eyes, a memory passing between them.All those times he’d drug Brienne’s board out of the water, carried it for her. He’d loved her then, and only her father had been smart enough to realize it.

“That’s my job.” Jaime called after Selwyn and Brienne snorted, but her annoyance rang false. The big man jingled the pickup keys as he walked away, leaving Jaime to wonder if unconditional love was carried in the Tarth DNA.He hoped so.

**< ><><><><><>**

The waves were tall and formidable, white crested giants beating their way ashore. Brienne opened a window, breathed in the mist, her heart quickening to match the familiar rumble-crash cadence. Jaime and her father were cautiously quiet, storm churned water reflected in both their eyes.

“What do you think…15 feet?” Jaime broke the silence, arm nonchalant against her knee in the tight cab.

“Seems about right.” She tried to sound reassuring, this was nothing out of the ordinary. Brienne started surfing waves this size _—larger even—_ long before she first competed. The pressure of their concern was stifling.

As soon as the truck rolled to a stop she bailed out, rounding the tailgate and grabbing her board with a frantic energy that sizzled. Her father kept his distance, Jaime of course was not as reserved with his thoughts. “You will be careful?” He whispered it to her, circled her wrist so that his thumb rubbed tenderly against the pulse.

“I can’t surf scared Jaime…you _of all people_ understand that.” He nodded, gave her a tender smile reminiscent of the man he’d been, the one with fewer scars.

“Just respect it…and know that I’m out there with you in spirit if not in body.” The longing in his voice was so loud, her chest clenched for him.

Covering his hand with hers she leaned forward, rubbed her nose against his cheek. “One day we’ll be floating side by side, jockeying for the bigger ride.” She nudged him with her forehead until his head lifted, seeking his eyes. “It’s a promise Jaime Lannister.”

The raw want in his face startled her, and for an instant Brienne couldn’t decide if it was her or his past that he ached for. Grunting as he closed the distance, Jaime covered her mouth with his. The kiss was rough and sloppy, bruising in its force. The kind meant to brand, unforgiving, a kiss you lived over and over.

He pulled back just as quickly, eyes like embers as he squeezed her shoulder.“Be fierce then.” The growl of his voice and the roar of the waves combining in her head, driving her toward the choppy shallows.

It was cold, bitingly so. Her hands and feet cramped almost instantly and she was glad for the dry suit keeping her somewhat insulated. The undertow yanked at her ankles, she felt herself dragged toward the depths even as she surrendered to it’s embrace, alive in a way that eluded her on land.

_That’s not true._ Her heart whispered it as she mounted the board and paddled out, welcoming the burn in her shoulders.

_He makes you feel alive…he always has._

Jaime affected her. When they surfed together it was a shared passion that drove her to push harder, challenge her body. A few days in his company and they were inseparable, his encouragement a steadying force right there on her board: holding her stance, fixing her grip. They rode together, his presence a second heartbeat…

The mountain of water gathered on the horizon, lurching and peaking, a curl on its lip just ready to unfold. 

Brienne turned toward shore, dug in and gathered speed as she climbed the rise. The current was lighting fast, her arms straining to keep up. Feeling the board lift she popped to her feet, crested the rumbling face and peered over the fall.

This beat of weightless abandon never aged, the pang of giddy terror as she floated, held aloft by the force of the sea as it churned beneath her; the sheer drop of tumbling fury stretching from board to sea floor, a tiny maelstrom of sand and shells swirling in its wake. Brienne tipped over the edge, fell into it’s embrace…her first lover, ever faithful.

The sea was merciless today, its slick face churning fast and deadly beneath her. Every choice threatened catastrophe _—one wrong slip._ Brienne reined in her adrenaline, leaned on the inside rail and whipped left ahead of the foamy crash that chased her. Her turn was tight, quick and meticulous as the curl closed around her and she crouched lower.

She was in the tunnel, cut off from land by a muddy blue wall that pounded like a waterfall inches from her face. _This is flying. This is soaring._ Brienne dragged her hand along the shoulder _—a caress—_ spray parting her fingers. They flirted and battled, the limitless sea testing her, pressing her limits. In a deep squat she sliced the shoulder, pumped her already fatigued legs for a last surge of momentum, keeping a breath ahead of the raging white water at her heels.

Launching from the pipe she barked with joy, cut wide before turning back and climbing the face. She skidded off the lip with a lurch grabbed the front of her board and threw her heft into the twist.

_Look Jaime! Look what we’ve done._

The words echoed in her mind as she soared, flipping end over head,this 360 by far the most massive she’d ever thrown. Brienne heard Jaime’s whoop of triumph as clearly as if he were gripping the board with her.

_That’s why you quit._

Her subconscious wouldn’t shut the fuck up, even as she hit the landing perfectly and pumped a fist in celebration, even as she clawed back up the face for one more gasp of stolen air.

_You surfed with him, and then you surfed_ for _him. You loved him and he left, and you quit…_

She could blame Galladon’s ghost all damn day, but she and her brother’s memory both knew better. Somewhere along the way her bone-deep love of surfing and her adoration of Jaime had fused into _one_ feeling—an unquenchable pull, a visceral need. They squabbled and soothed, prodded too hard and forgave just as easily, every battle a gust that fanned the flame; the thrill of Jaime was a wild thing, matched only by the rush of the tides and the crashing waves. He was with her, for every ride, every victory.

_And then he was gone, and it was empty._

Jaime waved frantically from the shore.He had waded knee deep, stood transfixed as the spray spattered his already drenched pant legs, face radiant with awe, _with love…_ as if it didn’t matter at all that he was standing still and she the one on the board.

A spark re-lit inside her, a fire she hadn’t noticed went out. The incomplete feeling manifesting from salt air: the will to fight back, to reclaim what she had relinquished.

_I want to dance…fling myself into the air without hesitation, fly high and bright and land in his arms._

She’d run from the loss of him, the loss of their connection. The prospect of surfing alone _—surfing with half a soul—_ too agonizing to contemplate. Brienne was whole now, had mended her wounds and forged her own space…and Jaime found his way back to her, beat up but in some ways better for the distance traveled.

He would love her no matter what. If she sat on the porch and never entered another event it would be just fine, yet _…what if?_ What if she wanted to jump back into the fray? What if she _did,_ and what if it was breathtaking—shocking and aggravating and _glorious._ What if she throttled the competition and bulldozed her way to the top like the reckless force of nature she was born to be and what if Jaime _…if Jaime was there,_ holding her close and soothing her insecurities. Taking the wheel when she was just too tired and insisting she eat, pestering the shit out of her as they grew a life together.

Brienne strode ashore, pulse pounding in her ears, muscles vibrating with untapped energy. Jaime was still staring at her like an impossible thing, a dream made flesh.

_What if Jamie were there, heart in hand at the end of every ride?_

She sloshed through the breakers, with each long step the path ahead becoming more clear.

_I want to win._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to sdwolfpup for talking this over (...and over, and over...) with me, and then being gracious enough to edit it...repeatedly. Thanks to Madelyn and Meriwyn for your support of this story.
> 
> Comments are so very appreciated, they make my day. Also, you can find me on Tumblr (I'm ilikeblue there as well).


	13. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime was sitting on the second porch step when he heard the tell-tale rumble of Davos’ motorcycle turning into the drive. Initially he’d thought it an odd choice, the thoughtful man with half a hand arriving astride a big chrome death wish. But the longer he looked, the more convinced he became that there was a controlled recklessness lurking in his counselor. It was recklessness that drove Davos to quit everything and join an untested young woman in a new venture. That same recklessness dared Jaime to open up, scratched through the layers and reached places in his head that no one else had.

Jaime was sitting on the second porch step when he heard the tell-tale rumble of Davos’ motorcycle turning into the drive. Initially he’d thought it an odd choice, the thoughtful man with half a hand arriving astride a big chrome death wish.But the longer he looked, the more convinced he became that there was a controlled recklessness lurking in his counselor. It was recklessness that drove Davos to quit everything and join an untested young woman in a new venture. That same recklessness dared Jaime to open up, scratched through the layers and reached places in his head that no one else had.Maybe it was just right timing—being near Brienne and desperate to take the next step toward normalcy—but Jaime was convinced that his candor during therapy was in part a product of the instant connection he felt to the older man. There was a similarity to their spirits that made it easier to unload on him; he knew Davos could take it.

Davos was unbuckling his helmet as Jaime stood, extended a hand in greeting. “About time.” Jaime feigned impatience, his lips twisting in a one-sided smirk as Davos matched the expression.

“Look who’s finally on time.” Davos growled in reply, gripping Jaime’s hand and giving it a solid shake. “Must truly be an emergency.”

Jaime paused in his reply, feeling unsure and exposed in the driveway where anyone might overhear. “It’s just that I _-we_ …Brienne and I, we…” His lips formed a tight line, floundering over how to spare Davos the lurid details and preserve some semblance of modesty for Brienne.

The older man snorted, put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me guess, your cock and your brain have different ideas on how to proceed.” Jaime felt his face warm and Davos laughed, it was harsh and barking and reminded him of Brienne. “Trust me son, if a client is pacing in the parking lot, it’s probably about sex.” He nodded in the direction of Jaime’s cabin. “We heading there?”

Jaime glanced over his shoulder at the cottage, struck with the memory of Brienne standing in front of the window that first day. How the sunlight had filtered through her hair, her broad fingertips pressed flat against the glass with longing. “Maybe we could use the office this time?”Jaime attempted nonchalance, but there was a neediness to the question that Davos sniffed out.

“Feeling more comfortable in her space, huh?” Anyone else Jaime might have told to fuck off, but there was gruff pride in the older man’s voice that left him grinning instead.

“I am, to a point.” He held the screen door, followed Davos past the sun-bleached furniture to Brienne’s sanctuary overlooking the waves. Jaime lowered into the chair facing her desk with something close to reverence, rubbed his palm across the wide polished grain and imagined her hand entwined with his.

“You look good.” Davos’ voice interrupted his reverie, jerking him back to the present.He sat in _her_ chair. “Like a man who’s thoroughly whipped, but good. Smitten suits you.”

Jaime chuckled, it lingered in the back of his throat. “I’ve been smitten all along, I just hid it better before.”

Davos’ gaze was fond, a joking tilt to his lips as he replied. “No…you really didn’t.” Carefully covering Jaime’s hand with his mangled one, he squeezed gently. There was solidarity in the act, in a way just as comforting as Brienne had been weeks before. Sighing, the older man continued in a low rumble,“What’s the catastrophe?”

They stayed that way: Davos gently pressing his hand, offering Jaime a lifeline in deep water, a tether until he could find his words. He stared at their fingers, amazed to find comfort in the rough touch after years of avoiding contact. Davos was safe…safe like Brienne.

“I had a flashback while trying to have sex.” The words rolled out in a quick, flat line. Jaime tugged his arm free, wrapped it protectively across his chest. “For a minute all I could see, a-all I could hear o-or feel was her. _Her._ I was right back there.”

“Was this the first time that you attempted to be intimate with Brienne?”Davos was all business now, somehow erasing his long friendship with Brienne from the conversation. Jaime was so appreciative he could weep.

“No we uh, we…the night before we um…” Jaime dropped his head to the edge of the desk, shaky with embarrassment. _“Dammit.”_ The word bounced off the slick surface.

“So you and Brienne fooled around, correct?” Jaime nodded, finding his courage and lifting his head. “When?” Davos was so calm, unflustered. It was freeing.

“Just, uh…last night.” Jaime squirmed as Davos broke down and grinned. _Son of a bitch._

“You’re still too fucking impatient for your own good.” It was a statement not a question. Jaime would have agreed anyway. “Were you able to have an orgasm?”

_Oh gods, we are going there._ His tongue felt thick. “Yes.”

“That’s real progress, Jaime.” There was something deeply funny about this conversation; the grizzled counselor acting as cheerleader for his sexual exploits. One day they would laugh together, but not yet. 

Davos didn’t ask about Brienne, by omission reinforcing the fact that Jaime _alone_ was his client. It settled over him like a summer breeze: _he_ was the priority, _his_ feelings and fears the focus. Jaime relaxed a fraction as the older man continued.“So when you decided to move beyond touching to actual intercourse, that’s when you had the flashback?”

Jaime’s eyes widened at the clinical term. He swallowed a quip about the word _intercourse_ and how his Aunt Genna thought it vulgar, preferring the term _marital relations_. Finding his restraint, he pressed his lips tight and smothered the smile threatening there. “It wasn’t until we were on the verge of _…intercourse_ that something she said just landed the wrong way and…” He skittered to a halt, _unwilling_ or _unable_ to continue, Jaime wasn’t sure.

“What did she say?” Davos prodded, relentless.

“Brienne called me _baby._ ” Jaime gripped the edge of the desk, forging on. “It was what _she_ called me that night. Either she didn’t know my name at all or…she shot up just before we- _we did that,_ so maybe she was too high to remember?” He shrugged, forcing himself to slow his breathing, steady the flutter in his stomach. “I remember hands groping me a-and _baby-baby-baby._ It was slurred and _so fucking fake_ and-and I was screwing her and crying out…” Jaime covered his ears, tried to silence the shouts of _Brienne_ still ringing in his mind. “This morning, when Brienne used that word, when she called me b- _ba…shit…”_ He choked, unable to say it.

Davos was like a statue, elbows bent, chin in hands. His eyes closed in contemplation before speaking. “What was _her_ name, the woman from that night?”

“I never heard it…” _It’s disgusting, I’m revolting, I know._ “…or I forgot, either way.” Jaime stared at the whorls in the wooden desk, mapping the pattern as his thoughts spun faster, verging on panic.

“I think you need to find out.” Jaime began to protest, he wanted _less_ of this memory, not more. Davos kept talking. “I think you’ve made her into this demon, something despicable _—something powerful—_ when in reality she’s just a woman, most likely as broken and lost as you ever were, maybe _more._ ”

“Davos…I _can’t._ ” He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to face it.

“Put a name with the face. Accept that she was a desperate person searching for comfort in your body, and that you probably gave her solace for a little while. What she and your sister did was inexcusable, _you don’t owe them your forgiveness—_ you don’t owe either of them _shit—_ but you owe it to yourself to find some peace. Acknowledging her weakness is a good start.” The older man reached across the desk, gripped the wrist of his handless arm and cradled it tenderly. “You’re stronger than a memory, Jaime Lannister. Look at _this…_ ” He pressed his thumb into the scarred tissue for emphasis. “…remember what you’ve survived already.”

“I’ll try.” He nodded, covered Davos’ hands with his remaining one and forced a smile.

“How is Brienne with all of this?” The counselor’s eyes shone with concern, it lessened the knot of Jaime’s reserve.

“She’s fucking amazing.” Jaime fought the urge to grin stupidly, but it was a losing battle. Davos watched him slowly crack, the older man choking on a loud guffaw before releasing his wrist. Jaime continued, unable to slow the tide of praise now that it was in motion. “Brienne is so generous with herself…” The older man hesitated, then his low rumbling chuckle filled the office. Jaime paled and stammered out an explanation. “ _Oh gods_ I-I didn’t mean it _that_ way. She’s just so damn kind and thoughtful, she really listens to what I’m going through, a-and she hasn’t taken it personally, not once. I know Brienne has her own self-esteem issues, but she’s able to put them aside for me, and the physical part…” Jaime heard himself sigh, _he actually fucking sighed_ , no wonder Davos was laughing in earnest now.

“I assume Brienne is a very patient lover.” Jaime inhaled so hard he coughed and Davos waved both hands in a halting motion.“Please, _for the love of the Seven,_ no details.” Unexpectedly the older man blushed, his whole countenance filled with jovial embarrassment.“She’s like a daughter and _damn,_ I really don’t want to know, but I imagine that once she’s given her heart, well…it would be quite something to find yourself on the receiving end.”

“It is.” Jaime was still grinning, that idiotic one that had filled his face ever since he woke up in Brienne’s arms. He surrendered to it.

“Have you told her that you love her?” Davos’ voice was muted and sincere. Jaime was floored once again by how easily he cut right to the quick of it.

“I have.” Jaime brimmed with satisfaction, he had at least done that part right.

“Good man.” It should have been patronizing but wasn’t. A swell of warmth rose in Jaime’s chest for this person who had been a stranger not so long ago; more fatherly than his own blood, more patient than anyone he had encountered before Brienne.

“She loves me too.” He spoke with care, as if saying it aloud might break the spell. Jaime wasn’t sure why it mattered that Davos knew, but it did.

“Then it will be okay _…she’ll_ make sure it’s okay, all that bullheaded stubbornness put to good use.” The prediction was delivered with such fondness, Jaime swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. _She would._ “It’s going to take time Jaime, time and forgiveness. Get that name…” 

“I will, _I will…_ ” Jaime agreed reluctantly, it would force him to return one of his sister’s many texts he had been ignoring. He stood and ran fingertips along the edge of Brienne’s desk, glanced appreciatively around the room. _I like her space._

“How long are you staying on Tarth?” Davos circled around, patted his shoulder on the way to the door.

“Until she tells me to leave.” He glanced sideways at Davos who was almost smirking. “You’re stuck with me old man.”

“You’re a fine one to talk cradle robber.” Davos grunted appreciatively at his own joke and Jaime laughed. Brienne didn’t mind his age and hers was the only opinion that mattered. “You should help with sessions when you get your sea legs back. Someone who’s been there, who understands what it’s like to stumble and crawl, to hurt…you could make a difference.”

Jaime felt more joy than he cared to admit over Davos’ use of _when_ not _if_ while talking about his return to a board.Brienne had surrounded herself with solid people, good spirits. “I’ll keep my job with Legacy Lines, Tyrion has arranged for me to work remotely. But I plan to help with the Outreach, at least part time.”

Davos turned with his marred hand extended, Jaime shook it with gusto. “Welcome to the family then.” It took all of his willpower not to wrap the man in a bear hug. A family. Here. On Tarth. Davos and Theon and Selwyn _and Brienne._

He might never stop grinning.

**< ><><><><><>**

It had been a very odd morning, the follow up to a similarly odd night. Brienne stretched out on the too-short towel, let her toes curl in the damp sand on one end and her hair drag through the sticky grains at the other. The overnight storms had cleared out, leaving slate colored skies in their wake. She liked overcast days, liked staring at the clouds as they tumbled breakneck across the muted expanse.

It was a precarious feeling, being near boneless with happy exhaustion after a morning in rough surf, and yet having every nerve lit with anticipation. Brienne couldn’t wait to see Jaime, to have his fingers and lips dancing across her skin once more, to tell him about her decision to compete again. She teetered at the edge of a cliff, her life stretched out below like an unending line of waves, a never-ceasing series of challenges that they would tackle together.

Most of the day’s appointments had rescheduled, opting to face the surf when it was more tame. Jaime was meeting with Davos, and Theon had just finished a session with a long-standing customer who enjoyed the challenge of bigger waves. Brienne watched her friend trudge ashore dragging two boards, a proud grin on his face as he clapped his client on the back; they had both ridden well.

“Hey, Brienne.” Theon approached wearing an easy smile, moving with the same lanky grace that he had on water. His skill hadn’t diminished, his body just couldn’t withstand the beating of competitive surf. “You good?” He cocked his head in question and she patted a spot on her towel.

“Sit with me? We need to talk.” Brienne was light, giddy. She longed to share the feeling with her friend.

“Okay, but…” Theon abandoned the boards and plopped down, eyes darkening with concern. “…if this is about like, _new experiences_ a-and if you need to talk about, you know, female _stuff…_ I-I’m not your guy. I just, _I can’t fucking take it.”_ He was speaking fast and poking holes in the sand with both hands, practically twitching with furious energy. “There’s no fucking way I could listen to you talk about…yeah _no,_ a-and with _him,_ shit.I mean, it’s not that I don’t care and I wanna be helpful, _I do,_ but…” He trailed off with a frustrated sigh, seemed to regroup before starting again. “Hey, uh maybe I could call Yara? I mean her backstory isn’t exactly the same, but she knows enough to be umm helpful, sort of…”

“What in the world are you rambling about Theon?” Brienne narrowed her eyes, trying to follow the rushed, one-sided conversation.

“It’s just…” He huffed, head falling forward until it almost touched his knees. “I’m not prying _—I swear—_ but I noticed Jaime in your sweats and you’ve been staring into space for the last hour, a-and you told me once that you hadn’t had sex…” Brienne groaned, mourning that confession as Theon spluttered ahead through his own sinking wave of mortification. “…so I was afraid that maybe something uncomfortable…no wait _not,_ I meant awkward _. Awkward._ Shit, I didn’t mean to imply that he wasn’t thoughtful…” Theon trailed off, looking so flustered that she felt sorry for him.

_“Gods,_ those pants.” Brienne covered her face with a hand, blushing and laughing. “It’s okay, _I’m_ okay, better than okay. I’m good _-great,_ exceptionally great.” She was smiling too wide and gesturing exaggeratedly as Theon practically melted with relief.

“That’s really as much as I ever want to know.” He held out a hand, it was too small to contain Brienne’s broad one, but the feel of his fingers closing around hers was as comforting as a warm blanket. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.” He lifted her knuckles to his lips, grinning as he brushed across them. “This is the part where I say that I can do…” He looked at Brienne expectantly, waiting for her to put a halt to the familiar boast.

“Go on.” She called his bluff, unable to hold back the grin that spread across her face like sunrise. Her heart was simply too buoyant.

_“…better?”_ Theon bit his lip, ducked his head sheepishly. “Fuck _._ I can’t compete with _that._ ” He nodded toward her delighted expression, and Brienne felt her cheeks flame in response. “You make sure he puts _that_ look on your face every damn morning, you hear me?”

“I will…promise.” She let their hands fall to the sand together, fingers still interlocked. Brienne was filled with the same calm comfort that had always existed between them.“I need a favor.” She spoke it to the waves. Theon turned toward her in question.

“Of course.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m returning to the tour.” Brienne saw his brows tug upward, just before his face erupted in a bright smile. “I need you to manage the Outreach while I’m away.”

“Is this Jaime’s doing?” He shook his head, managing to look simultaneously irritated and impressed.

“Actually, we haven’t talked about the circuit since he showed up. I mean, we brought up our memories of _each other_ , but not the actual events or the tour.” Her voice trailed off as she tried to piece together why they hadn’t when competition had been such a part of their lives before. “Then this morning…out there, the waves were churning and the board rattled and bounced and the whole world was spray and flash _—fast—frantic…_ ” Brienne closed her eyes, felt the drops on her cheeks, the burn of her legs. “…everything but me. Time slowed and my breath paused and I knew exactly where to put my feet, just how to lean, to shift, it felt _right…_ ”

“Of course it did.” Theon huffed, a relieved little sound that Brienne didn’t understand. She stared at him until he continued. “Lannister broke your heart. After he left you were too beat up to love anything, even surfing— _especially_ surfing, because you shared it with him, and then your brother…”The wince crossed her face before she could stop it, Theon dragged her hand to his lap.

“I’m stronger now.” Brienne nodded, steadied her voice. “I’m not that confused little girl any more.”

“No, you’re not.” Theon’s voice was fond, proud. “And I’m so glad that you aren’t alone, that being with Jaime has, _I don’t know…_ Feng Shui’d your head or realigned your Chakra or fuck-knows-what-all so that you can surf at your full potential again.”

“Okaaay, essential oil and crystals aside…” She shot him a pointed stare and Theon choked on a snort. “It’s not Jaime out there. I’m the one on the board, the one who has _been_ on a board every single morning…”

_“Exactly!”_ Releasing her hand he poked her in the side for effect. “So _do this_ , do it with Jaime if that’s what will make you happiest, but do it for you, Brienne, no one else.”

“I will _—I am._ ” She nodded her head with more confidence, the rightness of her decision gaining momentum as they spoke.

“You sure you want _me_ in charge?” Theon looked away, the insecurity that he’d tried so hard to shed slithering back home. “There must be some dude with a college degree looking for a part time gig, maybe they would be better.”

“Nope.” Brienne wrapped an arm around his shoulder, leaned in close. “No outsider is laying a hand on _our_ clients, _I trust you._ ” She whispered it against Theon’s cheek and he sighed in relief. Jaime wasn’t the only person in her life who needed reassurance.

“I’ll make you proud.” He grinned at her with open affection and that light feeling threatened to overwhelm her again.

“I’ll try to do the same.” She promised.

Propped together on the beach, they watched the waves drag at the shore as the gulls scurried back and forth in their wake, digging occasionally at the retreating foam. Theon broke the quiet first. “So J-man has what _…five_ championship titles?”

“Yep.” Brienne let the word hang there, waiting…

“Do you think you might have six _really good_ years left in you? Because I would totally shit my pants if…” Theon’s grin was breathtaking and the laughter she’d barely kept at bay all morning exploded from her, any lingering doubt chased off by happy tears.

_I need to tell Jaime._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry this took forever, real life caught up with me for awhile. This chapter turned into a monster, much too long to post in one go. Good news is that I will be posting again within the week. Thanks for everyone who stuck with me and is still enjoying the story.
> 
> Super thank you to sdwolfpup for helping me plot toward the ending and all the editing and advice. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think, I really appreciate comments.


	14. Ride or Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Without a doubt I will sneak into your bed at every opportunity and steal your pants as often as you allow. They make me feel sexy.” Jaime growled the last and Brienne cackled, it was brash and reckless even to her ears. Stalking forward, he appeared mesmerized by the sound, sat so close that their thighs and shoulders touched. “And the person most likely to enter my cabin unannounced is you. It’s a happy coincidence as I have no issue with you seeing me naked, in truth I look forward to it.” His voice dropped, an invitation beneath the play.

“You in there?” Brienne called through the open cabin door.

“Just changing out of these damn pants.” Jaime replied from the bathroom, his words almost lost in a chuckle. “Next time insist that I pick a less recognizable pair.”

“So sure about a next time are you?” Brienne’s voice rose in amusement, ending in a swallowed groan as Jaime exited wearing a loose pair of trunks that sat enticingly low on his hips. It was unfair that he could look effortlessly fabulous. She followed the trail of fine golden hairs down the plain of his stomach toward his waistband. _Completely unfair._ Brienne had perched on the edge of his bed while she waited, and as Jaime approached she leaned back on her elbows, her face stretched wide in a relaxed smile.“Also, have you heard of a lock? Someone could walk in on you.” She raised her eyebrows in challenge.

“Without a doubt I will sneak into your bed at every opportunity and steal your pants as often as you allow. They make me feel sexy.” Jaime growled the last and Brienne cackled, it was brash and reckless even to her ears. Stalking forward, he appeared mesmerized by the sound, sat so close that their thighs and shoulders touched. “And the person most likely to enter my cabin unannounced is you. It’s a happy coincidence as I have no issue with _you_ seeing me naked, in truth I look forward to it.” His voice dropped, an invitation beneath the play.

Brienne shoved hard against his shoulder and he rocked away then flew back twice as fast, flattening her with the momentum. “Jaime… _don’t…_ ” She cried out in false protest, a much too girlish giggle rippling out of her broad chest. Jaime took full advantage of his position, pinching her ribs in a ticklish spot he had charted the night before. Brienne was squealing and bucking as Jaime threw a leg over her hips in an attempt to hold her down, the room filling with bright laughter.

“I like this blue swimsuit, duck.” He slipped a finger under the edge, slid it the length of her side until his hand rested flush against her lower back. “You wore it for a surf lesson one _very_ memorable afternoon.” He wasn’t laughing any more, voice sinking to a gritty whisper as he wedged his chin beneath her jaw. Brienne gasped at the prickle of day old-stubble against tender skin.

“What made it memorable?” The sound was throaty, a fragile whimper breaking loose as he nipped at her ear.

“You took my breath away.” He kissed down her neck, sending sparks along her skin as he nosed at the strap of her suit.“Not just your unbelievable body in this skimpy little thing, but everything about you. You were so relaxed, every move had a confidence and grace that I didn’t recognize. That was the first time I packed my bag to leave.” Brienne heard the hesitancy in his voice, the barely hidden melancholy. The knowledge that he had considered leaving sent a bolt of pain through her chest.

“ _Why?_ Was it something I did? I-I didn’t mean…” Instinctively she tried to soothe him, tangling fingers in his curls.

“It was me…and you, it was both of us _._ You had grown so much that I had trouble finding the girl I missed in the remarkable woman you had become, and I had been _so lost_ and had changed so little. You were intimidating, out of my league. I decided that I didn’t deserve you.” He grew quiet, laid his head on her shoulder and toyed with the neck of her suit, tracing patterns in the freckles there.

She tried to envision Jaime Lannister intimidated. It seemed preposterous. “And _now?_ Do you know me now?” She kissed his temple and he sighed into her skin.

“No. Not yet.” He turned his face toward hers, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “But I have the rest of my life to unravel the mystery of Brienne Tarth: every surprising secret, every lovely detail. I’ll be diligent…” He leaned into her, sucking her bottom lip between his and tugging gently, the sensation still so startling that Brienne gasped into his mouth.

“Don’t leave me.” Brienne breathed the words into him, her deep-rooted fear leaching out with each gust of air. He didn’t deserve her doubt, not after everything, but sometimes she was still the broken girl at her mother’s funeral, the girl crying in the sand, the girl standing by her brother’s casket.

_He makes me weak…weak in the knees, weak in the soul._

“We’ll throw away my suitcase.” He licked into her mouth, shocking her once more with his hunger. When he touched her like this she was a stranger in her body, all her unattainable fantasies made real. It was disorienting. “I promised you Brienne, I’m staying.”

“I never got over you abandoning me.” Jaime stiffened, flinched like a child reprimanded. She held on tightly, forbidding his retreat. “I felt too much: sadness and worry over your injury, anger at facing Galladon’s death alone, hurt from being rejected…”

“Brienne, I didn’t..” His eyes were wide and brilliant, a frantic fire catching life in the depths.She cupped his face in both hands to soften her blows.

“ _You did._ You rejected my friendship, my help. You rejected our connection and the chance at a future together.” She smoothed the apples of his cheeks with her thumbs, stared into those deep green pools. “I quit fighting…quit feeling, covered my heartache with a thick coat of denial, with school and the Outreach, my father and Theon. I never faced it, not until you arrived.” 

“I was so focused on myself.” His voice carried all the pain and doubt he had felt, it throbbed between them. “ _My_ injury. _My_ loss. It was easy to convince myself that you wouldn’t want me anymore, that I would only hurt you if I stayed. I did anyway, didn’t I?” Jaime’s eyes turned cloudy, the flame fizzling out as he sank in remorse. “I’m so sorry.” He sounded defeated. Brienne tugged his hand to her lips, kissing his fingers until he focused on her once more.

“You’re forgiven.” Her reply came easy, the sentiment real. All the lingering regret and blame washed away leaving only affection. Brienne took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m going to return to the tour.” Jaime’s eyes widened at her declaration, wonder creeping into the blank spaces. She seized his silence and continued. “When you left I gave up, it was just too painful to compete without you. I realize now that quitting was a mistake, that I should have continued _for me._ There’s nothing like it, when the water’s churning and my tuck is tight and the ocean gallops beneath me.” Brienne’s words were rushed, seeking his approval. _“_ Jaime, _you know_ I’m invincible in the chute, I want to feel that power again. _”_ He was nodding, a fluttering movement that matched the pounding of her heart.

“You’re so _-so strong_ Brienne, glorious on a board…” He gripped her hand, twined their fingers. “…better than ever, more talented than anyone I’ve ever met. The thought of you out there might scare me shitless, b-but I _want_ you to compete. It’s where you belong.”

She barked a laugh, relief storming up her throat with the noise. “There’s more.”Insecurity threatened to silence her. _Be brave._ “We do this together or not at all. I want you by my side for every win, every setback. I’m never letting you go again.” Brienne held her breath, afraid of his reply.

“ _Of course_ I’ll be there, you couldn’t keep me away.” He was kissing her cheeks, a tease of lips and lashes against her skin; the sensation tingled down her chest making the muscles in her stomach clench. She was shaking. “I’m proud of the person you became, Brienne. You rose from your own ashes, built this place that does so much good. I want the world to know how amazing you are.”

She felt the tears gathering, tried to suck them back but ended up snorting instead as they trickled down her cheeks. Jaime huffed at the sound, wiped the moisture away with a tenderness that rattled her. “I’m proud of you too, Jaime. Most people who live through what you did would never set foot on a beach again, let alone climb back on a board and face it head on. It took guts to come here.”

“That was Tyrion and Theon’s doing…” He looked away, denying his strength, minimizing his involvement. _Still so quick to accept the worst version of himself._

“But _you_ chose to stay. Jaime, you pushed that suitcase back under the bed and came back for more.”

_“Always.”_ He whispered it against her ear, back to showering her with kisses. “I learned my lesson, no more leaving. I’ll always stay.” There was a pleading undertone to his voice, desperate for her forgiveness.

“I’m hard to live with.” He raised his brows in exaggerated doubt and she lowered her voice even further. “I jump to the wrong conclusion all the time, I ignore complements and worry about what people are thinking. I’m shy about my body.”

“Not with me.” Jaime trailed his hand the length of her torso, sliding it between them to rest on her thigh, close enough to remind her of how it felt between her legs. “You’re going to have to do better that that, duck. Any other horrible habits I need to know in advance?”

“I refuse to fold underwear.” She bit her lip, holding in a smirk as he guffawed and sent the mattress bouncing. “There are dirty dishes in the sink more often than not, I’m a shit cook, I leave the bed unmade…”

“What I’m getting from this conversation is that I should mentally prepare to take over kitchen and laundry duties. Go on.” His whole body relaxed, as if talking about a future together had bled all the tension from him.

“When I’m feeling overwhelmed o-or uncertain, I’ll second-guess your feelings for me.It won’t mean anything, and I won’t be able to stop myself, and it will hurt you.” Her voice cracked on the confession.

“Then I will have to tell you every day how wonderful you are, how much I love you.” He kissed her, silencing her reply. “Brienne… _sweetling…_ did you think that years of self-doubt, all your losses and all that pain would disappear overnight?” Jaime parroted her words from earlier, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Gods, we’re fucked up.” Brienne sighed it against his neck.

“We’re less fucked up than we were a month ago, so that’s progress.”Jaime looked immensely happy, it erased all of her lingering concerns. “Selwyn has asked me to move in, until I find a place of my own.”

“You’re living with my father?” Brienne choked with mirth. Her father and Jaime, stuck together in an unlikely alliance.

“In his garage, but I’m looking at a place to buy.” Jaime hesitated a moment, took a steadying breath.“I’m _all in_ here, Brienne.” His voice was low, searching.

“I know.” The magnitude of what they were planning felt suddenly very real. _Be brave._ “I-I am too _…a-all in_ that is. Ride or crash.”

_You hear that Galladon? I’m doing it._ She wondered if somewhere her big brother was cheering her on, probably laughing his ass off in the process.

“Ride or crash.” Jaime mumbled it into her hair, parting the thin strands with kisses. From his lips the words sounded less like a dare and more like a promise.

**< ><><><><><>**

Jaime’s brain blinked out for at least two minutes as he followed Brienne from the cabin, transfixed by the rocking of her hips and the blue one-piece that was determinedly ascending the curve of her ass with each long stride. His situation made all the more dire by her delicious habit of hooking a fingertip beneath the elastic and tugging it in place then releasing it with a satisfying crack of material against pale skin.He wrestled his thoughts in line enough to notice that she was lifting a board toward him, a pleased look on her face.

“What have you done to that poor board?” Jaime ran a hand over the patterned rubber, chuckling under his breath.

“It’s grip tape.” Brienne touched the bright square that was positioned right of center, a few feet from the nose. “Last time we surfed you had trouble popping to your feet.” She indicated his stump and Jaime felt inexplicably exposed. “Hopefully this will give you some traction, keep it from slipping out from under you.”

“Pink?” He ran the blunt end of his wrist over the material, testing the feel.

“I used what was lying around.” Brienne shrugged in that slightly self-conscious way that made his arms ache to hold her. “I like pink.”

Jaime was suddenly back in line that first day, staring at huge feet and startling nails. “I remember.” He grinned at her toes, caught up in the magic of their memories. “Can I paint them sometime?” The question appeared out of nowhere, shocking even him.

“My toes?” Brienne laughed, raised a foot and wiggled them playfully. “I don’t know…” She drawled it out, blinking at him with eyes like clear skies. “There’s implied trust during a pedicure, do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I do! Honestly, I’m _very_ good. I used to paint them all the time for…” Jaime had been so caught up in this new, comfortable closeness that he hadn’t realized where the sentence was headed until he was there.

Brienne gave a bob of her head, silently encouraging him to finish. When he didn’t, she finished for him. “…for Cersei. You did that for Cersei.”

Jaime’s sweaty palm stuck to the wax of the board and he could feel his pulse in the scars of his stump as he grappled with an appropriate reply. “It wasn’t _weird_ , not the way it sounds. We were close, once…when she wasn’t just a body, a face. Before the demands of the business changed her, before the excess, we were friends.”

“It’s okay to admit that you loved her.” Brienne’s voice was cautious, relentlessly soothing, and Jaime would have sworn that she and Davos and the fucking _Seven_ themselves had conspired on this subject. “It’s okay if you _still_ love her. She’s your sister.”

“I don’t.” Cersei was a wretched person. Her cravings had swallowed the girl he loved, and he’d almost followed suit. “I don’t feel anything for her.”

“Well, that’s a lie.” Brienne picked up her board, leaned into it with a casualness that clashed with the tone of her voice. “You might hate her, and the intensity of that hatred probably terrifies you, but you definitely feel a whole lot of _something_ toward your sister.”

He closed his eyes and willed the conversation over. All he wanted was an afternoon with Brienne in the sunshine, a board beneath his knees and spray on his shoulders. Jaime felt dissected, raw to the marrow and sick of it.

_“Hey.”_ When he opened his eyes Brienne was right there, a dark blue expanse filled with concern. “Why don’t we just surf, hmm?” Her voice was deep, a sultry whisper that he would follow anywhere.“I’ll even let you paint my nails…left handed.”

“ _Oh,_ right.” Jaime gave a clipped laugh. He had forgotten. They moved together across the sand, matching pace as he plotted. “Can I paint them while you’re naked?” The image called to him: long limbs sprawled across the bed, Brienne’s high pitched squeals and desperate squirms as he licked behind her knee and she fought to keep wet nail polish off the sheets. He’d owe her a new set by the time he finished.

“That sounds like an awful idea.” They reached the water’s edge and she kicked at the incoming waves.

“That’s not an answer.” Jaime growled his reply and gave her such a seductive once-over that she scooted away like it burned. He could barely make out the _“maybe”_ she whispered in retreat, but it would be enough to send him scouring the nearest drug store for the right shade of pink.

Jaime hadn’t felt the world shift. He didn’t comprehend the scope of change, that a new truth had manifested in his core, the ramifications radiating outward until everything fell into alignment. His first go at surfing again had been a brawl; a panic-fueled battle between his new handless life and the one he had lost. Each failed attempt at standing a reminder of how powerless he had become. _As if_ things were perfect before, _as if_ snapping his fingers and traveling to a time before the accident would fix whatever had already been broken inside him. 

If he’d stayed, he would have lost her. He would have said something thoughtless, something cruel, his callous rearing prevailing in the end. Brienne would be some girl he’d had once, a faded ghost of love.

Floating next to her in the flats Jaime realized that it had all been a path leading to this point, his life laid out like the shimmering surface extending in every direction. A million possible routes, so easy to get lost. When he slipped and missed the first nice swell he laughed, same with the second, and the third. So he wasn’t as quick with one hand, so he wasn’t as balanced, _so-so-so…_

_Brienne is beside me._

The fourth swell he’d caught. Used the fucking pink grip pad and popped to his feet like he’d never missed a beat. He tumbled into the chute with fearless abandon, the momentary lift of his body as he fell damn near orgasmic. The mechanics still felt weird, his balance not right because, well…part of him _was_ missing. Shifting weight to his right foot to compensate, he streaked to the bottom of the shoulder and turned left, swinging wide at first but quickly adjusting.

It wasn’t pretty. Every movement took concentration, each tiny manipulation of the board felt monumentally difficult. But he rode it, climbing once to the lip and skimming along the line of foam with a shoot of spray and a victory shout so loud that Brienne heard him over the roar, silver hair swishing in his direction as he fell back into the curl.

He was rumbling along the surface, a wall of white at his back, and feet firm beneath him and he was _greedy._ Finding speed he bore down on the inside rail, shot up the face in search of air, only to peter out and fall gracelessly off the board. He slid down the back side on his ass before being swallowed by the next crest and barrel rolled to shore in a slurry of sand and rocks.

When he surfaced Brienne was running in his direction, having abandoned her board in the breakers. _“Shit-shit-shit.”_ She chanted with each bouncing stride, and that sight alone was enough for him to want to try again.

“I’m fine.” He waved both arms at her, coughing the last bit of seawater from his lungs. “Did you see?”

“It was great!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him close, wrapping both arms around his waist. “You looked sure-footed, were you?”

“Not really, it was work…” He broke into a grin, unable to hide his enthusiasm. “…but it felt _so good_ Brienne.” She grinned back, eager to share this moment with him.

“How’s the stump?” Lifting his wrist she inspected the scars, running her thumb over a reddened area. “I was worried the grip might give you rug-burn, but it’s not bad.” With careless gentleness she lifted the skin to her lips, pressed a kiss to a chafed spot. “Maybe we can come up with…”

Jaime was staring at her like a fish on land, he knew he was, it was just impossible to stop. There was too much to process: being on a board, being with her. Her seemingly boundless acceptance of _all_ of him the tipping point to an already emotional afternoon.

_“Fuck.”_ Jaime grabbed her face, pulled her down to meet his crashing lips. He needed her, wanted to drag her to shore, roll her on the sand and consume her. “You’re un-fucking believable, do you know that? I don’t deserve you, no one deserves you.” Her lips were cold as he parted them with his tongue, sucking brine from her skin and searching out her heat. Brienne moaned beneath the attack, opened wide and licked into his mouth, just as desperate.

They kissed for what seemed forever, time marked by the crash of waves against their thighs and the pull of soft sand beneath tangled feet, by the roll of his tongue against hers and the little gasps that collected at the back of her throat. Without thinking, he had wrapped his stump around her waist, tucked it beneath the edge of her suit and was rubbing little patterns on her hip that made her shiver.

Brienne was panting, lips that had been blue from the chill of the water now bright pink. “Shall we go again?” She was breathless and smiling, and Jaime didn’t know if she meant surfing or kissing, but he was certain that the correct answer was _yes._

He stayed with her all afternoon, sometimes fighting his way atop the board and sometimes lying on his stomach with arms folded beneath, enjoying the view as she carved neatly through the crash. Jaime had a few more good runs, most punctuated by a catastrophic climax where he was hurled from the board and tumbled ashore. The one time he actually managed to ride it out seemed boring in comparison.

When they finally waded in, each dragging a board in tow, Jaime was exhausted and sated in a way that had eluded him for years, maybe a lifetime. All those competitions, and the only memories that came close to this type of genuine happiness were from his months spent with Brienne.He was so close to capturing it for good, one more hurdle.

“I”m going to help Dad cook.” Brienne was toweling off, collecting her things. “Make sure to remind Tyrion that he’s invited, I want to say goodbye.”

Brienne worried about Tyrion; she never spoke of it directly, but Jaime could tell. There was a distance between them that worked at her: she was a fixer after all, and their friendship needed fixing. Brienne couldn’t stand the idea of his brother leaving in the morning without one last stab at reconciliation.

“I’ll tell him.” He pulled his phone from beneath a towel, stared at the blank screen. Brienne waited for him to follow. “If it’s okay, I’ll meet you later? There’s something that I need to show Tyrion before he leaves.” Her brows narrowed, just a pinch, and Jaime could tell she was curious.

“Alright.” She leaned in, placed a last quick kiss to the corner of his lips before snatching both boards and trotting off.

“ _Hey,_ that’s my job.” He called after, and Brienne smirked over her shoulder.

Jaime took a soothing inhale of salty air, lowered himself to the sand baked warm by the afternoon sun. With halting motions, he opened his sister’s contact page, stared at the decade-old photo. “Come on Lannister, don’t be a coward.”He whispered the words, listened for a reply in the surf that never came. 

His left thumb was awkward, and he labored over a message for far too long. With a huff he erased it, typed it again, erased it. It had been a perfect day. Frequent bouts of near-crippling insecurity set aside, these had been the best 24 hours of his life, and he refused to let his twin claim one moment of it. With a grunt he shoved the phone back in his pocket having never hit send.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a little quick for an update, but I'm making up for the missing installments last month. Also, the previous chapter had a dearth of Jaime + Brienne together, I hope this was fun to read.
> 
> Thanks again to sdwolfpup for all her support, editing, and advice on this story. She's very generous with her talent and I am grateful for her help. 
> 
> Comments make my day, please let me know what you think. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me through this story. Much love.


	15. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alone at last.” His voice was liquid, flowing over her and settling warm in every pore. The increasingly familiar pull of his body reaching across the wide, pine floorboards and drawing her to his side. Brienne took the seat her father had vacated, placed her broad hand on Jaime’s thigh. 
> 
> “I don’t want you to feel pressured to stay. We surfed all day a-and neither of us slept well last night…” Brienne instinctively backpedaled from her desires like they were something dirty, meant to be kept in the dark.
> 
> “Maybe I want to be pressured.” Jaime covered her hand with his. “Just tell me what you want, Brienne. I promise it’s okay, either way.”
> 
> “I want you in my bed.” Easy as that, she’d said it. Her voice cracked with the realization. 
> 
> “What else do you want?”

Jaime lingered near the waves for a few minutes after Brienne left, feeling warm and giddy, reliving every good run, every smile exchanged like they were well-earned victories. He supposed they were. When he turned, Tyrion was watching him from the stoop, alone in a low beach chair, beer in hand as the setting sun turned the sand golden. “You’re getting better.” He raised the bottle in toast and Jaime pinked in reply. “Gods you’ve caught it...sexually transmitted I hope?” His brother’s grin was blinding.

“I respectfully request that you fuck off.” Jaime fetched his own chair and took the now-familiar position beside Tyrion. “At least I was able to stand on the board without Brienne hauling me aloft by the ass this time.”

“Ahh, but where’s the fun in that?” Tyrion chuckled, a mischievous squint just visible behind tinted lenses. 

Jaime didn’t grace him with a reply.“She put grip tape near the nose so my stump doesn’t slip out when I put weight on it, and her dad is going to make a neoprene sock-thingy to protect the scars so they won’t get sore.” Jaime lifted his arm, stared at the criss-cross of raised tissue covering the blunt end, now rubbed raw. “It might help.”

“Selwyn sews?” Tyrion’s grin lacked his usual acidity. The warm delight that his brother once reserved for him alone spilling over onto Brienne and her father. “ _ Crone’s tits, _ how does he manage with those bear paws?” 

“The Tarths are a resourceful bunch.” Jaime leaned back, soaking up the late afternoon rays.

“Is Brienne resourceful?” The grin widened. “Is she energetic? Experimental?” Tyrion cackled and Jaime ran his hand through day-old stubble, groaning exaggeratedly. 

“Are you Oberyn Martell now?” He kicked at Tyrion’s legs as his little brother dodged and laughed.  _ “Did you worship your pale giantess as a Dornish man would? Did she scream with pleasure beneath your unskilled northern hands?”  _ Jaime put on his most outlandish accent, mimicking Oberyn’s thick, rolling tones.

“Did she?” Tyrion’s voice turned serious. “I watched you on the swing with Selwyn. I saw the damn pants.” His eyes searched Jaime’s face, concern in the furrow of his brow. “I just want to know you’re okay…” He made a less than subtle gesture toward Jaime’s crotch. “…like _ okay- _ okay, before I go.”

“I’m getting close to okay Tyrion, really close.” Jaime smiled, remembering the feel of Brienne’s firm body tangled with his beneath her covers. “I can see the end of the tunnel.”

“You mean the beginning of the tunnel... _ entrance _ to the tunnel?” He cocked his head to the side in contemplation. “Entrance sounds better.” With a snort Tyrion drained his beer. 

“ _ Seven fucking hells Tyrion!  _ Do not talk about Brienne’s tun _ —shit.  _ I can’t even say that. Do  _ not  _ talk about her lady parts, just don’t. Ever.”

“ _ Lady parts? _ How’s fifth grade health class treating you Jaime?” Tyrion guffawed, shuffled into the cabin and returned with another beer and a second water. “Keep hydrated, just in case.” He bobbed his head in the general direction of Brienne’s apartment and Jaime scowled. 

“Why the sudden overwhelming interest in my sex life anyway?” Jaime twisted the bottle top over-aggressively, holding back a bark of frustration. “Brienne isn’t some conquest to brag about, she’s decent Tyrion a-and…”

_ “I know.” _ Tyrion cut him off, leaned forward and placed a hand on Jaime’s knee. “You think I don’t realize just how extraordinary Brienne Tarth is, how good she’s been to you? I know how much I _ -we  _ owe her, respect being the least of it. It’s a debt I’ll never finish repaying.” His brothers’ voice was rushed and serious, the joking from before gone.

“Then why?” Jaime shook his head, struggling to understand Tyrion’s swiftly shifting moods.

“Because I also know  _ you,  _ dear brother.” He held Jaime’s gaze with kind eyes. “I know that you overthink everything, especially matters of the heart. You’ll stew it down, sift and sort the pieces in that quietly analytical brain of yours until you’re convinced that the things you’re lacking are all that matters, until you convince yourself that you’re a disappointment to Brienne when in reality this is a blip in your life together, a minor set-back with your whole future ahead.” He tumbled on, his words gaining speed. “I joke because I realize it’s fucking  _ torture _ for you to talk about it, and I need you to see the truth…”

“I understand _. _ ” Jaime nodded, silencing Tyrion’s rant with a smile. “Gods Tyrion, I  _ finally _ get it.” At last accepting that he was more than one thing, more than one hand or one mistake, more than desire. “Brienne wants all of me.” 

“She does.” Tyrion grinned, playfulness flowing back into his worried features. “Some parts more than others I would guess.”

“You are such an ass.” Jaime snorted and huffed, but it lacked any real irritation. They sat in silence, his thoughts drifting quietly in the pound of waves against the shore. “I feel like I just woke up, not exactly from a nightmare, more…a waking dream. Everything was dull, washed out. A huge piece of my life passed in a blur, and now that I’m wide awake you’re leaving.” Jaime knew the folly of asking his brother to stay. Tyrion had his own responsibilities, his own place in the world. 

“I’m just glad to have you back, I missed your spark. It’s much more fun to pick on you now, before I was almost afraid to.” Tyrion stared at the sea, closed his eyes as the wind lifted his curls. “It truly is beautiful here.”

“Brienne has invited us to dinner with her and Selwyn tonight. She’s worried you might leave tomorrow without saying goodbye.” Brienne had confided to Jaime that her relationship with Tyrion felt strained. She didn’t understand that his brother’s discomfort stemmed from guilt. Justifications aside, they both had distanced themselves from her. He hoped that with time their friendship would right itself. 

“Is she cooking?” Tyrion looked amused at the thought.

“Selwyn is.” Jaime caught his brother’s eye and they both broke apart in peals of laughter. 

“ _ You are so screwed.  _ A future good-father who can beat the crap out of you with one massive hand and bake a cake with the other, how can you possibly compete with that?” 

“I have other talents.” Jaime put on his most Lannister-like smirk. 

“Talents that are, by your admission, _ very rusty. _ Good thing Brienne loves you.” Tyrion was wearing that affectionate look again, the one that made Jaime want to hug him.

“She really does.” Jaime’s voice was low, the pleasure of that admission expanding in his chest until it was stretched to bursting and his head felt light. They sat together a few more minutes, relishing each other’s company. Jaime ended the silence with a question: “Will you take a drive with me? There’s one last thing I need help with before you go.” Tyrion looked thoughtful, waved a small hand toward the loaner parked near the cottage.

“Lead the way.”

**< ><><><><><>**

“I want to buy this.” The car rolled to a stop in the sandy parking space near the “For Sale” sign. Jaime had found the cottage one morning while jogging the narrow road that circled the island. The size of the oceanfront lot had caught his eye first; one lap around the dilapidated building and he was hooked.

“Is it haunted? It  _ looks  _ haunted.” Tyrion hopped out, walked to the crumbling porch steps and looked up. “There’s a huge fucking hole in the roof, all kinds of water damage. Birds…” He turned back to Jaime with a bewildered look. “Tell me you’re only interested in the land.”

“It is a nice sized lot, and the adjacent one is available too. Of course I want both.” 

“Of course.” Tyrion shook his head in amusement. “You certainly spend like a Lannister…”

“Shut up.” Jaime climbed the steps to the porch, avoiding the rotten one. “It’s an original fishing cottage, built in the 1930’s, a real piece of Tarth history. Some asshole will just plow it over and start fresh.”

“A smart asshole, a sensible asshole…” Tyrion was nodding his head, willing Jaime to agree. “…but not  _ my _ asshole brother, apparently.”

“I already sent pictures to Renly for his advice on how to remodel while keeping its character intact and I checked the regulations regarding additions. There’s no rule limiting expansion of the original footprint. I can add a bedroom on the first floor for you _ ,  _ a big one with your own bath. Large enough for  _ your  _ family to visit.”

“Jaime, you know that I’ll never…” Tyrion stared at the sand, head swinging back and forth in denial. 

“You deserve to be happy Tyrion. All these years babysitting me, managing our company, dealing with father…promise me you’ll try to find someone who makes you happy, something other than work to go home to.” He stood on the rickety porch, waiting.

“I’m not good with people Jaime, my sarcasm can be a bit much and…” He waved a hand from head to toe, grimacing. “…not everyone is into  _ this. _ ” 

“Is Brienne normal?” Jaime whispered it, just loud enough for Tyrion to hear.

“Jaime…I don’t…” Tyrion stared at his feet, drawing lines in the sand, his discomfort palpable. 

“Is Brienne what most people would consider normal?” He repeated himself, more forcefully this time. Tyrion was still avoiding his eyes. “Come on, you know the answer to this little brother, just as well as I do.”

“No, she’s not.” He spoke the answer like it was a betrayal, mumbled and short. “Jaime, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. I love all the quirky parts of her that other people don’t appreciate: her freakishly long legs and mannish shoulders, her too-wide waist. I love Brienne’s plain face, all those beautiful sun-kissed freckles and her surfboard-smashed nose. They’re all a part of her story, and her story is so much  _ more. _ ” Jaime carefully descended the bowing steps and knelt beside his brother. “Find someone who sees you the way I see Brienne, the way she sees me.” He held up his scarred wrist and Tyrion grasped it tightly. “Then bring them to visit my awesome cottage.”

His brother smiled, resignation lingering around his eyes. “I’ll keep an open mind, I’ll try.” Shaking his head, he looked back at the cottage and changed the subject. “I suppose you want me to handle the contracts, make sure the transaction goes smoothly.” 

“I already submitted a good offer, if you would finalize the closing?” He patted Tyrion on the shoulder affectionately. “I think we can skip the inspection.”

Tyrion choked back a laugh. “If you insist on buying this shit-hole…”

“…historic shit-hole. ” Jaime interrupted with way too much glee.

“ _ …historic _ shit-hole, then I will make sure you get the best possible deal on said shit-hole. I’ll research some contractors too.” Tyrion grinned conspiratorially, gave a barking laugh. 

“What now?” Jaime wondered aloud at the smug look on his brother’s face.

“If you’re going to buy a sizable chunk of every beach tied to a happy memory with Brienne, then I might be forced to actually work at making money.” Tyrion was chuckling as he walked back toward their car. “Even Lannisters have a limit.”

“Two beaches…” Jaime winked and rounded the hood. “…so far.”

Tyrion rolled his eyes in reply. “Have I told you  _ today _ how pathetic you are?”

They had buckled themselves back in the car when Jaime spoke again. “Davos told me to find out the name of  _ that _ woman. He thinks knowing it will help me move forward.” He didn’t start the engine, just stared at the sand blowing across the hood. It matched the swift-flowing current of emotions in his head. 

“Well  _ damn. _ ” Tyrion’s voice dropped to a whisper as the wind whipped outside, the beach shifting slowly around them. “Cersei certainly knows. She said she’d texted you.”

“She has, lots of times, I just wasn’t in the mood to reply.” Jaime gritted his teeth, determined to hold the guilt at bay. 

“For how long?” Tyrion pressed.

“Six years, give or take?” The answer resonated in the closed space as anger gathered like steam behind his eyes. “You know Tyrion,  _ you know _ how fucking hard I’ve worked to get past it. I will not be made to feel bad about…” He hated his knee-jerk response to Cersei’s name, hated needing her for anything.  _ Fuck her for making me so damn predictable, for making me vulnerable.  _

“No _. No, _ I get it. It’s just…” Tyrion sighed as something just short of sadness pulled at his face. “…you don’t know what she’s lived through in the last year. Sins have a way of coming full circle.” He shook his head and shrugged. “She doesn’t have anyone else to talk to.” Tyrion looked at him pleadingly and Jaime fought the urge to snarl and snap at his little brother; a dozen hurtful retorts flaring to life then dying unspoken on his tongue. 

“I want the name, so I’ll text her.” Jaime growled, refusing to look at Tyrion, refusing to be twisted into grieving Cersei’s absence from his life. “I don’t give a shit what she’s been through, but I’ll play nice at father’s birthday dinner. It’s only one night.” He would suffer through his twin’s presence if it helped move his relationship with Brienne forward. 

“Father was afraid you’d forgotten. I was to remind you that it’s in three weeks, Sunday afternoon at four o’clock sharp, casual dress…” He ticked the points off on his fingers.

“Code for formal.” Jaime grumbled, turning to Tyrion and pointing. “I’m bringing Brienne _…if_ she’ll come, and she’s not staying alone in some guest room. Father needs to understand exactly how important she is to me, and I don’t want to face Cersei without her.” 

“Fair enough.” Tyrion patted his knee, voice rising in excitement. “When you decide to rock the boat, you  _ really  _ rock the boat.” He looked extraordinarily pleased.

“I learned that from my brother.” Jaime grinned, starting the car. “Let’s go surprise Selwyn in the kitchen.” 

**< ><><><><><>**

Brienne and her father spent the late afternoon preparing a send-off dinner for Tyrion. They moved around the Outreach kitchen in companionable silence, Selwyn occasionally pointing at ingredients or giving her instructions. She had worried that it might be awkward in the aftermath of her night with Jaime, the change in their relationship having been revealed to her father in the sharp relief of early morning sunlight. Instead there was calm between them, an unconcerned acceptance. Brienne scolded herself for gearing up for a fight when she needn’t have wasted the energy, it wasn’t in Selwyn Tarth’s constitution to be judgmental.

Jaime and his brother arrived in a jovial mood, Tyrion carrying two bottles of red wine which were undoubtedly too expensive for Brienne’s palate. Theon showed up a few minutes later with damp hair and sandy feet, wearing the relaxed expression of someone who had just rolled off a board. She shot him a knowing grin and he shrugged in reply. 

As a group, they migrated to a large wooden picnic table on the porch set with tea lights in mason jars and mismatched plates. They clustered together with too many knees knocking under the table, laughing and reminiscing. Jaime sat unabashedly close, occasionally wrapping his arm around Brienne’s waist or brushing his fingers across hers with intent before grinning and twining their hands for everyone to see. Each small gesture took her breath away, each one a tiny claim to her heart. 

Halfway through the meal, Tyrion cleared his voice and stood, his face slightly flush as he raised a glass. “Please bear with me.” The solemnity of his voice caught the group off guard. “I’m an emotionally repressed ass, interminably compelled to cloak feelings in witticisms, so here it goes…” He turned to Jaime with soft eyes. “To my brother, who is without a doubt the luckiest fucker on the planet. Brutal mauling notwithstanding, what other explanation could there be for capturing Brienne’s affection not once, but twice?” Glancing at their joined hands, he continued. “Brienne, thank you for your patience…for loving my brother enough to forgive his pride and recklessness.” Tyrion paused, looking around the table. “I’m so thankful for Jaime’s found family, may you always be this happy.” 

Brienne felt a little like a guest at her own wedding, not that it was necessarily a bad feeling. If she ever got married it would happen exactly like this, with the people she loved gathered around her, the ocean at her back and Jaime by her side. As far as toasts went, Tyrion’s wasn’t half bad, even if she disagreed with his assessment of Jaime. Her lover was more broken than prideful, overly concerned with her feelings and his. There were moments that she longed for his recklessness to return. Still, she raised her glass as her father chimed in with:  _ “To years of happiness.”  _ Jaime sipped sparkling water beside her, captured her eyes with a predatory look as she drank, then dove in to kiss the purple from her lips. Brienne gasped, heard Tyrion chuckle at his brother’s impulsiveness. It was intimidating, this casual intimacy that she didn’t know the rules for, but so wanted to learn.

When he pulled back and whispered,  _ “to a lifetime with you,”  _ she was too tipsy to speak.

After the dirty dishes were piled in the sink, Tyrion headed back to his cabin with a grin and one last embrace. Brienne felt better about their relationship. There was still a part of her that held a grudge against him for keeping Jaime to himself all those years. She knew she was being irrational, that if Jaime had wished to be found his brother wouldn’t have interfered, but the distrust lingered nonetheless. 

Theon hugged her goodbye and gave Jaime what could only be interpreted as a warning scowl before driving off in his old VW, a cloud of burnt oil in its wake. Her father lingered for a few minutes, sitting beside Jaime on the porch swing and making small talk about his surfing progress and when Jaime wanted to move into the garage. They were strangely compatible; Brienne couldn’t help but wonder how this partnership had been brokered so quickly.  _ They both love you. _ The admission was still uncomfortable, and she found herself slipping into old patterns of denial and self-depreciation until Jaime caught her eye and winked; the look on his face so openly sweet that even  _ her _ overdeveloped ability to ignore the obvious was waylaid. 

_ He loves me. _

Her father patted Jaime on the knee, stood and kissed her cheek with a grumbled “See you both tomorrow,” before heading to his truck. Brienne faced Jaime, overcome suddenly with a gut-churning mix of anxiety and arousal.

“Alone at last.” His voice was liquid, flowing over her and settling warm in every pore. The increasingly familiar pull of his body reaching across the wide, pine floorboards and drawing her to his side. Brienne took the seat her father had vacated, placed her broad hand on Jaime’s thigh. 

“I don’t want you to feel pressured to stay. We surfed all day a-and neither of us slept well last night…” Brienne instinctively backpedaled from her desires like they were something dirty, meant to be kept in the dark.

“Maybe I want to be pressured.” Jaime covered her hand with his. “Just tell me what you want, Brienne. I promise it’s okay, either way.”

“I want you in my bed.” Easy as that, she’d said it. Her voice cracked with the realization. 

“What else do you want?” Jaime’s reply was a gritty whisper. 

“I-I  _ can’t…” _ It wasn’t as if she didn’t know. Her mind had hosted a parade of wanton thoughts all day, lusty daydreams that evolved and narrowed with each reiteration. But to actually ask for it…

“Brienne, tell me.  _ Please. _ ” It was the “please” that broke her, murmured with the same bare need that he’d shown when calling her name the night before.

“I want to touch you, th-the way I did…what _we_ did, before.” Brienne closed her eyes, flushing at the memory. “It’s all I can think about: the feel of you beneath my hands, the sounds you made when…” She choked just trying to say it.

“When I came…and then you came?” Jaime finished for her, tugging an earlobe between his teeth. 

“Yes, _ shit! _ ” He’d slipped his tongue in her ear. Brienne jolted at the sensation as Jaime chuckled warmly.

“Go on.”

“This time I want you to help, to-to  _ show _ me how to touch you. I want you to whisper when I do something right and put my hands where you want them. I want…” Brienne swallowed loudly, losing courage.

“Brienne, you can’t possibly think that I will let whatever lurid desire you  _ didn’t  _ say go unsaid for very long _.  _ Do you know me at all?” He was tugging the hem of her shirt one-handed, working at it until the material pulled free of her shorts and he could slip his fingers underneath. The feel of them trailing along her waistband made her back stiffen with pleasure, words loosening inside her as he made his way around her hip. 

“I wa-want to touch you slowly this time, not frantic…n-not like last night when it was over so fast and then all I could think was ‘ _ I wish I had savored it.’  _ The way you kept saying my name, the way you pressed into my hand and begged to finish, it was the sexiest fucking thing  _ ever _ and I-I…” The memory filled her and it was too much to hold without burning, too much to say out loud. 

“Gods  _ Brienne, _ don’t stop…” The sound of her name undid her: half pain, half blissful surrender. A groan burrowing its way to her core and shaking loose any lingering inhibitions.

“I want to wrap my arms around your waist and stroke you so slowly that you weep.” Jaime’s head fell forward and he murmured something unintelligible against her shoulder. Brienne struggled to finish, her words jumbled and shaky. “I want you to come with a scream, fall on top of me heavy and limp and sure, so damn  _ sure _ of what we have, how happy I can make you.”

Somewhere in the middle of the last sentence Jaime had gone completely still, his breath against her neck growing increasingly shallow and erratic. He waited for what seemed to Brienne a painfully long time, before finally asking: “Why? Brienne, you know that I love you, t-that you don’t need to prove anything to me, so _why…?_ ”

“I guess…I just  _ figured _ that the only way for me to force another woman out of our bed, out of  _ here… _ ” She touched his temple, noting the sprinkle of grey hairs. “…is to fill the space. I’m a big woman, Jaime.” Her lips tipped with the start of a smile, finding at last a little humor in the fact.

“You’re my woman, _ all of you. _ ” Jaime leaned in close, almost bearing his teeth in a strange show of possessiveness. It coiled in Brienne’s stomach, her fingers clenching with the need to claim him in return. When he grabbed her wrist she followed. Moving swiftly up the steps he threw open the door and tugged her into the apartment. She had barely cleared the threshold when Jaime slammed the door behind her, then backed her flush with the still vibrating surface. Traveling once again to her waistband, he tucked a finger beneath the material and gave the fly a tug. “Let me see you, duck.” 

With uncharacteristic nerve, Brienne shed her clothes. Each discarded piece revealing more speckled skin, a pale moonlit expanse growing larger by the second. Jaime couldn’t conceal his delight, it washed over her like a summer shower, a steady patter of gentle touches and even softer words. When she was done, Brienne faced him across the shadowed entranceway, tall and glowing in columns of light cast across the floor. 

“You’re magnificent.” His words stretched between them, a hot tether against bare skin. Jaime opened his arms and she stepped into them, sighing as he circled her waist and drew her to him. There was hunger beneath the calm surface, a tightly wound need that leaked out in little gestures: his fingertips digging at the flesh of her thigh, the way his hips tilted forward of their own accord when she was close. He held it at bay, honoring her wish to take things slow this time.

Together they walked to the bedroom, Jaime paused with his hand over the light switch. “On or off?”

“Off.” Her bravery had limits.

“I enjoy watching you, Brienne. I like what I see.”

“I know you do.” It was a miraculous thing, his appreciation of her body. She was afraid to stare at it too long, afraid to test it. “I’ll still be here when the sun rises.”

Jaime hummed contentedly. “So will I, love.  _ So will I. _ ” He fumbled a little in the dark, finally maneuvering her to the edge of the bed. “Wait here.”

His shadow traveled back and forth between her living room and the bath. Brienne tried to follow the movement, unsure of what he was planning until she heard the strike of a match and the tumble of water into the tub. A few minutes later he emerged, tanned skin framed in a halo of flickering light. Brienne sucked in a breath at the beauty of him, then covered her mouth to contain the giggle that charged behind it unannounced. She was naked, staring at the most attractive person she could imagine, his erect cock at face level and a sheepish look on his face. The only tell of his desperation hidden in the black of his eyes, pupils nearly swallowing the green with desire. 

_ This doesn’t seem real. _

_ “What?” _ Jaime almost pulled off offended, but the twist of his lips said otherwise. “I’m seducing you here, Brienne, and you’re  _ laughing. _ This is fucking romantic.” Placing his hand on his hip only accentuated the obvious, and by the slight narrowing of his eyes Brienne knew that he knew…

Summoning her new-found boldness, Brienne stood, closed the distance in two long strides and, without warning, circled his cock with her hand. Jaime shook at the contact, his startled  _ “oh”  _ stretching into a devastated groan as she gave him one lingering stroke. Brienne liked the heaviness of it in her hand, liked the slide of soft heat against her cool, rough fingertips. She tightened her grip slightly, gave another agonizing pull before leaning forward and whispering “ _ Who’s  _ doing the seducing?”

The next few seconds were a blur of motion: Jaime’s lips fluid and relentless against hers, strong fingers gripping her wrist, a tug and a shuffle and the tingle of matted scars tracing her spine. When the world stopped shifting, Brienne stood barefoot on the bathmat, blanketed in steam. Jaime’s wrist pressed gently against her hip and her hand cradled in his. 

“Ladies first.” He nodded in the direction of the tub, and Brienne opened her mouth to protest the fact that they would never fit, but Jaime stared at the rising water with such longing that she had to try. Still holding his hand, Brienne lowered herself as gracefully as she could manage; with legs bent she still filled the space. 

“How are we…?” Brienne glanced between Jaime and her long limbs before taking a deep breath and spreading her thighs, one heel propped on the ledge beside assorted shampoo bottles, the other hooked over the tub side. She was blazingly, achingly aware of how it presented her to Jaime. With eyes like cut glass, he took in the slick skin of her stomach, gaze dropping to the thatch of blond visible under the steaming surface.

His response was subtle: a gap of lips, a flick of tongue, a shift in weight that left him drifting toward her. “Gods, you’re beautiful.” It was an unfamiliar sensation, but in the flicker of candles, in the spotlight of his desire, Brienne _ felt  _ beautiful. 

“Come here.” She opened her arms in invitation, and Jaime stepped into the tub, sending little waves lapping at the edges as he settled his back to her chest. Brienne’s first instinct was to cocoon him in warmth, wrap her legs around his hips and scratch her nails across his chest and draw him into her. Without knowing, she made a contented little groan. Jaime’s damp skin tugged at her nipples and his backside rested on her pelvis, and Brienne found herself wanting more and _ more _ of his friction, all of his weight. “You feel  _ so good _ .” The words floated out of her, lost in a haze of sensation as she rubbed her lips against the little hairs at the nape of his neck, enjoying the way they tickled her cheeks. 

“ _ Fuck. _ ” His head flopped back against her shoulder and his hips jerked, sloshing more water over the sides. “Brienne… _ please. _ I need…”

He covered her hand with his, urged it beneath the surface until together they circled his full cock. “Show me what you like.” Brienne whispered the request behind his ear as together they stroked, Jaime shifting her fingers so that the tips trailed along the underside, firming her grip. She swirled her index finger around the head, traced the wet slit, the feel of his pre-cum seeping into her like lust. Brienne was empty and throbbing, her thighs clenching in desperation. It drove him wild, spurred him into action. Jaime thrust in quick bursts, his thick arousal slamming into her palm with each snap of his hips. He was close, legs trembling with tension as Brienne leaned into his back.  _ So close.  _

In retrospect, there had been a moment when his movements stilled, where he made an anguished gurgle in the back of his throat and gripped her wrist. Brienne ignored it, assumed that Jaime was overloaded with sensation and out of his mind with want. He had struggled, and she had missed it. 

“Bri-Brienne, love. I can’t,  _ I can’t… _ ” He gasped, pushed at her knees and pried her fingers loose, flinging himself forward and away from her. Water sloshed over the sides as he shifted to make space between them.

Brienne’s brain wasn’t working, her thoughts a scramble; “y _ou can-you can-you can”_ running in repeat. She clung to his shoulders until he yanked loose, then stared at her empty hands trying to piece together what had just happened. When she finally realized that Jaime had been trying to escape, it sent a jolt of cold through her blood, more effective than any shower.

_ He’s afraid.  _

**< ><><><><><>**

Jaime wanted to scream. Scream or weep or smash a wall or  _ fuck it all… _ do something, _ anything. _ Because if having a panic attack was shitty at baseline, having one while sporting an erection like a steel pipe had to be an all time low. 

He huddled forward, choking on steam, painfully aware of his dick and everything that accidentally brushed against it: his elbow, the side of the tub, Brienne’s retreating feet. The room was shrinking, a dark tunnel to nowhere as the edges went grey and he lost track of time. Jaime didn’t want to do this again, he’d thought it was better, that  _ he  _ was better. Instead he was half submerged in hot water, clammy and shaking and barely holding himself upright. 

Laying his face on the cool, porcelain edge, he counted to thirty and regulated his breathing, willed his heart to stop beating its way out of his chest. When the world started to make sense, Jaime turned to Brienne. She had withdrawn as far as the cramped tub would allow and was staring at him with luminous eyes.

And fuck.  _ Fuck. _ He’d done it again. Made her feel bad about something that should be beautiful. Made her feel dirty, and small. He reached out, fingered her damp hair. “This wasn’t you, Brienne.  _ You know that, _ right?” His voice was soft, infused with regret. 

“Another panic attack?” Brienne sounded like he might crumble if she used the wrong words, Jaime forced a smile and a nod. She continued: “It’s my fault. I-I triggered it, pushed too hard, asked for too much…”

“ _ No!  _ You didn’t. Brienne, you did everything right. You were perfect, you  _ are  _ perfect.” He reached out with his stump, she grasped it without hesitation. “It was me: my issues, my history. Something about the heat from the water a-and the way you were holding me. I realized that I couldn’t get out with your legs around my hips, not…not that I wanted to just then but,  _ if I did… _ a-and your arms were tight and the tub is so small…” 

Jaime considered beating his head against the tiled wall. How could Brienne’s loving embrace seem like a trap? Why did his screwed up mind misinterpret everything, so that being held tightly, _ sweetly,  _ felt like being forced? It made no sense. 

“We’ll stop.” Brienne interrupted his silent tirade, brushed her fingers across his back and started to stand.

“No. Brienne, please. I don’t want to stop. I just, I need to…” Jaime covered his face with his hand, so fucking frustrated.  _ What do I need? _ “If we stop it wins.” Jaime knew he sounded crazy. The _ it  _ in question was nebulous, a creature formed of half-remembrances and powerless fear, built upon a lifetime of being judged and found inadequate. 

“Alright.” Brienne was quiet as she settled back into the water.

A ripple washed up her chest, reflecting the candlelight, and Jaime was fascinated by the pink of her skin, by her dark, full nipples hovering above the waterline. The sight did nothing to help his unfortunate cock, it sprung back to attention, bobbing and aching as he scooted back between her legs. 

“Is this okay, I-I mean…am I making it worse?” Brienne’s voice was concerned. She had placed her heels on either edge of the tub, but the fit was still tight. It was impossible for her thighs  _ not  _ to curl around his waist, for her tiny breasts  _ not _ to flatten against his back, but she had made herself intentionally wide and lax; to Jaime it seemed that the air had turned cool, the room more empty.

“Being near you makes everything better, Brienne.” He leaned into her chest, took a deep inhale of humid air. “Don’t be afraid to touch me, duck. I can’t do this i-if you’re not…if I hurt you o-or pushed you away, I couldn’t…”

“I’m going nowhere, remember?” Her fingers trembled as she took his scarred wrist in one hand, then placed the other one gingerly against his hip. “Is-is this too much?” Jaime’s heart clenched to hear her so timid, especially when touching him.

“ _No…_ sweetheart, no. It feels nice, I’m better now.” He covered her hand with his. “Talk to me, Brienne.”

“About what?” Her voice had lost the nervous edge, sinking to its usual low octave, full and musical. It made his toes curl. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

“Right this minute?” She gave an amused harrumph. 

“Right this minute.” He nodded against her shoulder, gave her hand a squeeze. “Are you going to shock me, duck?” 

_ “Maybe.”  _ She groaned the word, and it rolled through him. Brienne paused so long he thought she might not continue, then spoke again. “I think you’re gorgeous.” 

“Do tell.” There was a smirk in his reply.

“I dream of you, I have for years.” It was whispered against his hair, tentative. “Ever since that first day in line.”

“Brienne…” She was too much for him, always too much. His heart thumped in his chest, he wondered if she felt it.

“At first they were girly dreams, full of innocent wishes…hugging you in the sunlight after a really great run o-or sitting on our boards side by side, just bobbing in the surf.” Her fingers danced over his hip in little circles, an easy rhythm to her touch and her words that was so,  _ so _ seductive. Jaime closed his eyes and sighed at the sensation.

“Then we took that ride in my dad’s truck, and you told me about your past. After that night I  _ knew _ what I wanted from you, and the dreams, they  _ changed. _ ” 

“ _ H-How?  _ How did they change, Brienne?” Jaime squirmed, his ass making insistent little movements between her legs that were completely beyond his control. 

“My first sex dream was about you.” She said it so matter-of-fact that it took a moment for his brain to catch up, but oh,  _ gods  _ when it did…

“ _ Shit, _ Brienne.” He moaned her name, gave a little thrust that sent water spilling onto the wet floor. She kept rubbing his thigh in slow—agonizingly slow—maddeningly _ slow  _ circles, never speeding up, never moving…

“I was a late bloomer.” She huffed a laugh that went straight to his dick; he lifted his hips in desperation. “That night I dreamed you fucked me in the cab of my father’s truck; that you pressed me down on that shitty old bench seat and took me _ hard,  _ legs spread and the windows steamed, just like some silly movie. I’d never dreamed  _ anything  _ like that before.”

Jaime groaned, slid his hand toward his aching cock. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back any longer.

“I never quit dreaming of you, after your injury, after you left. I ignored your memory during the day, but in my dreams…gods, _ in my dreams _ it was always you, every time. My whole life, Jaime.” 

He ran his fingers along the hot skin, barely touching himself and yet the cry he muffled against Brienne’s neck filled the little room, loud and desperate. 

Rubbing a cheek against the crown of his head, her words sank to a whisper. “I’ve waited for you _ ,  _ Jaime. Night after empty night filled with longing, only to wake wet and throbbing for you. So you see, love, if it takes a week, a month, even a year…it’s nothing. I’m patient.”

“Fuck, Brienne. _ Fuck. _ ” He closed his eyes and tugged at his cock in earnest, rolling his palm across the head and calling her name. His head rested on her shoulder, and when he glanced at her face he found her eyes fixed on his hand, watching. 

Her bottom lip was pulled tight between her teeth and her eyes were so fucking dark, not a sliver of blue left. She felt him staring, met his gaze and mouthed: “Don’t stop, _ please. _ ” 

He was falling, falling and breaking apart and he needed to get the words out first, he needed…

“Hand. Brienne, your hand…fucking hells, p-put your hand…”

She covered his fingers with her own, together they gave one slow stroke and he was gone, thighs jerking as his cock broke the surface and he spilled into the water in short pulses. Brienne was speaking in his ear as he came, tiny snatches of praise that worked their way into his pleasure-soaked brain. “Good,  _ so good.  _ My Jaime, my love.”

He collapsed in her arms, limp and drained, the space between each ragged breath filled with her name. Jaime couldn’t stop speaking it, even when she ran her fingers along his hand, up his arm, shushing and soothing him. 

They stayed in the tub a long time, until the water was lukewarm and their skin was pruned, moulded together and clinging to a moment that felt important somehow. Jaime didn’t speak as he climbed out of the tub and went to his knees on the sodden bathmat, as he gently eased Brienne’s shoulders back when she started to follow and trailed his hand up her inner thigh. Neither spoke as he eased two fingers into her tight opening and slid them slowly back and forth, as she lifted to meet him and water once again sloshed over the side soaking his thighs, as she slipped her hand beneath the surface and stroked herself in time with his deep thrusts, their movements gathering speed. 

His eyes sought hers, they were still open, wet and shining and dark, so dark. Brienne panted with each thrust, her lips parted and a faint smile tugging at the corners. When she came it erupted across her face, bliss so beautiful that Jaime was sure he would see it every time he closed his eyes. She clenched around him and cried his name, shattering the silence. 

As she floated down from her climax, Jaime stroked her hair, kissed her cheeks and whispered how much he loved her, how perfect she was. He helped her stand on trembling legs, then scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed, still dripping bathwater. For once Brienne didn’t protest, too sated to speak.

She was asleep almost instantly, arms stretched over her head and hair tangled around her face in silvery knots, one leg tucked beneath the other. Jaime leaned on his elbow, watched her breathing slow, watched the muscles of her face relax and her mouth fall open. Brienne looked so young, lying beside him like an open book, kind and uncomplicated. 

_ She would never hurt me. _

The thought took a moment to settle, to take root. Jaime felt his pulse start to race, his breath speed at the realization. Brienne might inadvertently cause him pain, they would certainly butt heads and bruise each other’s feelings from time to time, but she would never use him, never intentionally wound him. He thought about the woman in the tub, the one who had been so giving, so patient, only focused on his happiness.

_ I can surrender to that woman completely, without worry, without fear. Brienne would never hurt me. _

It felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, this all-consuming trust. He wanted to wake Brienne and tell her the news, but being in her bed, watching her sleep, was too fragile a thing to disturb. There would be time, plenty of time, years and years of time.

Jaime eased off the mattress and retrieved his phone from the bathroom counter, then texted Tyrion to find a respectable, low-level competition for Brienne to enter. She would need to accumulate enough points to return to the championship tour, might as well start now. Jaime still hadn’t asked her to accompany him to his father’s birthday party and he made a mental note to remedy that oversight first thing in the morning. Maybe he could work a little magic under the covers, catch her at a weak moment. He grinned at the thought.

With the phone resting on his chest, he gathered his courage, eventually opening to his sister’s contact page and typing a message: 

_ “We need to talk about that night.”  _

Maybe Cersei would have no idea what he was talking about. Maybe to her it was just a blurry memory of the golden son rolling in the gutter with the rest of the trash. But he would get a name if nothing else, and that would have to be enough.

Brienne was snoring lightly, a lock of hair stuck to her lips. He brushed it away, then gently kissed the corner of her open mouth. She blinked at him, eyes like sunrise drifting into focus as she mumbled “Hey, sweetheart…you o-okay?”

“I’m wonderful. Go back to sleep.” Jaime snuggled behind her, tucking the covers around them both. He would get the name, put that memory to rest, and move on with his life. No more wasting time.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much sdwolfpup for putting up with my shit. I was so crazy trying to write this chapter, and you were super patient. Your suggestions made it so much better. Thanks to NightReaderEnigma for being my friend and sounding board, I really appreciate your help.
> 
> So, smut happened. We'll just call it therapy with optional clothes. Please let me know what you think, I love getting feedback. It keeps me going.


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